It doesn't matter which way the wind's blowing
by Shauds02
Summary: (Unless you're flying a kite) Just because he doesn't remember his early years, doesn't mean he has to believe these freaks when they say he's some dead kid, and no, he's not okay with them stalking him. (Or the one where the pit restored Jason's mind but not his memories, and the Batfamily wants him to come home whether he believes them or not.)
1. No finish line in sight

People are always making such a huge deal about direction. A misstep here, a bad decision there, one action can have a huge variety of consequences, or so they say.

Just how true is that? I don't know, but I can't say I really subscribe to that train of thought. One decision, no matter how well thought out isn't going to make much of a difference in the grand sceme of things.

The way I see it, everything we do is because of a huge string of decisions we've probably made years ago. You don't just make a decision to shoot some guy, you don't just make a decision to pick up the gun, you don't just make the decision to take the long way home because you though it was a nice day out and you're a fucking idiot, and it goes on and on and on.

Maybe people who can remember where that string ends see it differently, maybe they can actually point out that one decision that led to all of the others. All I remember is the sea, a wad of cash that held me over long enough to get a crummy apartment in the seediest part of Bluhaven, and a soft voice 'You remain unavenged' like some creepy reverse Hamlet shit.

So no, I don't think too hard about it when I pluck the gun from the mouth of the narrow alley and empty the clip into the crowd of guys surrounding a still figure. All but two are crying out in puddles of their own blood, those two are high as the Eiffel Tower, so when I move closer they move as fast as their scrawny asses can take them in the other direction.

I don't worry too much when I lift the guy up a little and flip him over, not all of that blood can be his, but he does have a pretty nasty bump on his head. What does worry me is the crackle of the radio hooked on the guy's front pocket.

"Crap." I hiss, when I catch sight of the sticky, blood coated badge pinned to his chest.

There are three rules in Bludhaven, don't mess with the gangs, don't mess with the costumes freaks, and don't mess with the firiggin cops.

I drop him like he's on fire, ready to scramble back, but the cop groans and his arm shoots out, one hand wrapping tightly round my throat.

"Crap!" I repeat, instinctively I duck, hooking my arm under his and twisting while I try throwing him off me.

His eyes open, and I panic, but still can't pull away.

"Who'r you?" He slurs, taking in the downed men in he ground, and crap I'm still holding the gun.

The weapon clatters way more loudly than it should when I drop it. The cop turns his furious blue eyes to me, the intensity in that look is so strong I pull back.

"Yeah, I just saved your ass, so maybe cut me a break, huh?" I raise my hands and step back.

Something flashes behind his eyes, but his radio crackles and he's back to normal.

"Stay right there."He orders and reaches for the device.

Yeah, like hell I'm doing that. The second his hands are off me I bolt.

He curses and I pick up my pace, hearing his harried footsteps coming after me. Too bad for him, he's just been beaten bloody and I was taking a slow walk home. Still, it takes longer than I thought it would for me to outpace him. He has to lean against a grimy wall and I duck around a corner.

There are some curious looks from passersby but nobody will be stopping to help, people around here know not to get involved, and this is quite possibly the first time I'm glad for that.

"Jason!" He calls hoarsly.

I'm two blocks away before I let myself worry about how the cop knows my name.

((Linebreak))

A few weeks later and I'm definitely regretting the string of decisions that led to me helping that cop. Remember those three rules I mentioned before? Well, turns out I managed to break two of them in one go, and I'm well on my way to breaking another.

Those guys I dropped were all part of a local gang, a very powerfull local gang that's really trying to get in Blockbuster's good books. Having eight of your guys taken out by a cop and some nobody? Yeah that's gonna get you taken down a few pegs, and the best way to pull yourself back up is making an example of the ones who tripped you up and climbing over their bleeding bodies.

I was just refrying some leftovers when they knocked at my door.

Now I like to think I myself as a smart guy - I know, I know my choices lately beg to differ, but I said smart, not fucking omniscient - and I know I don't know anyone, so I pause what I'm doing and look at the door for a second, trying to puzzle out the decision with the least chance of little Jason peices being fished from the bay tomorrow morning.

"We know you're in there, open now and things'll be a lot less painful for you kid."

When people in Bludhaven say things like that, it's a pretty good indication that you're fucked whether or not you listen to them.

I have my ass out of my window seconds before my door is kicked in and the assholes get splashed in the face with with pan of oil I'd left in the doorframe for them. Aren't I just a sweetheart?

Their screams drown out the loud bang my feet make against the nearly empty dumpster below and I take of running.

I'm not angry, maybe a little annoyed that I'll have to find new apartment, but not angry. It's my whole fault for getting involved and I won't be making that fucking mistake again.

Psh, yeah that's what I'd told myself when I fished that junky out of the trash in Star City too, next thing I knew, I was in a run down hospital getting an arrow surgically removed from my left ass cheek.

No, my sanity's too tenuous to recount the exact series of events that lead to that ' _fun_ ' little memory.

I know I'm not in the clear, so it doesn't surprise me when a group of men jump me in the next alley I pass though.

Big, burley, probably paid for those steroids with what was left of their brains, you know the type.

I have my knuckles smashing through a row of pearly whites before the first guy even has a good grip on the back of my jacket.

Yeah, I'm good, and since the bastards started with ' _me_ ' this time I'm not shy about showing it either. Cheap rent or not, I'm done with this neighbourhood anyway.

I'm in the process of banging some guys head into a wall when I hear a click and realise yet another stupid mistake I'd just made.

BANG BANG BANG

I don't get the chance to correct it. The last thing I see before the sticky red grows on my favorite leather jacket and my vision clouds over is a dark figure with a bright blue emblem across it's chest looming over me.

Damnit there goes rule number three.


	2. Holding to no future

Did you know what's last on the list of things - baring a meet and greet with Cthulu - I thought I'd never have to put up with?

Waking up in a cop's bed, wrapped up like a dessicated mummy and smelling like cheap bubblegum liquor with a bullet hole in my side with my long lost father hovering anxiously over me.

On that same note, wanna guess where I woke up a couple hours after I got shot?

Yup, in the bed of a Bludhaven cop.

The only thing missing is the long lost father, though I scour my eyes across the messy room just to be sure. At least I'm not a pile of Jason bits floating in the bay, how's that for being positive?

The cop's uniform is draped over the foot of the bed and I can hear him whistling from somewhere in the apartment, the cheery sound only furthering my bad mood.

Just because I can, - and because what the fuck he even changed my clothes! - I toe the uniform off the bed where it falls into a half eaten take out container.

Satisfied I've made his life just a bit more difficult I swing my legs carefully off the bed, shift weight to my feet and promptly introduce my face to the mushy carpet when a head rush saps away my balance.

Rubber, fucking duck that hurts!

I let out a low, keening moan to hold back a list of expletives I don't have the lung capacity for. I try to stand again, but my aching body says staying on the floor is a better idea, so I do that instead.

God I knew getting shot was a bitch, but what the fuck did I do to deserve this?

It's the taxes isn't it, I never once paid taxes and this is how I'm going to be punished for it. By dying of pain in the home of a government official.

I don't even think I'm old enough for taxes, I grew three inches in the past month, so I can't just be a short old guy!

"Oh my Goodness, Jason are you okay?!" Hands are lifting me off the floor and no matter how out of it I am I know I don't lean into it okay. " Shhh, you're okay." Oh God, those hands are carting through my hair now.

It's so fucking weird my mind short circuits and next thing I know I'm seated at a breakfast table with an actual pile of bacon in front of me.

On second thought, the blackout could have been the pain...

Meh, doesn't matter, there's a plate of fragrant food in front of me and I'm too hungry to care. The cop is talking again, but I don't pay attention until I've polished off half the plate, makes it easier not to make a comment that will get the food taken away and I'd like to face my death on a full stomach.

"You should have known better than to try getting up so fast, you lost a lot of blood you know." He still looks way too cheerful for a cop with an injured kid chowing down on his food.

"You couldn't have taken me to a hospital?" I skewer four more strips of bacon on my fork and shove them all into my mouth in one go.

The guy's blue eyes are as wide as saucers, like a guy wanting to see a doctor about a bullet is something out of the twilight zone. "You hate hospitals."

Well I ask you, what sane person ' _wants'_ to chill out in a building where people die every day? There's no way in Dante's second hell this guy means something personal about it, just thinks I'm a street kid or something and makes a guess based on the general attitude.

"I hate dying more." I move a hand to rest on my aching side. "Some morphine would be killer too." I say because going by the pain in my side, the guy didn't think to give me any painkillers. I'm used to it enough that I'm not gonna scream again, but it still ' _hurts_ '.

"Don't talk like that!" He jumps to his feet, every drop of cheer gone from his furious/terrified expression and God damn he's got a gun clipped to his side!

I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die and there probably won't even be little Jason bits fished up in the bay, cops know their shit too well for that kind of evidence to show up.

I scramble away, brandishing my fork and his brows furrow in confusion. What, the fucker didn't think I'd fight back, huh? Well I'll show him what happens when you mess with a desperate guy armed with a _sharpish_ eating utensil!

When he tries to approach again, bringing a hand towards me, I jab him with the fork and make a break for it, grabbing one of the kitchen drawers and spilling out the utensils in a metal enthusiasts wet dream of noise.

"Come near me again and I'll fucking kill ya, you freak!"

Makeshift shield in hand, I duck down, putting the couch between me and the crazy policemen. I swear if I ever get out of this I'll never help another policeman for as long as I live.

"Jason, what are you doing?" He sounds hurt. Fuck, did I puncture an artery with that fork? I don't want a dead cop on my conscience, do you have any idea what kind of nightmares that would give me?

"Man are you okay?" I poke my head over the back of the couch and he's just standing there, leaning against the wall with his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking.

"I'm so sorry." He looks up at me with teary eyes. "Whatever I did, can we please just talk it through? I'm so happy to see you."

"Er..." I lower my head a little, so just my eyes are showing. How do I tell him I'm not into whatever fantasy he's got playing out in his head without getting that gun trained on me? "Listen bud, I'm sure you didn't do anything you wouldn't normally do, and I get it, I'd be pretty damn happy to see me too, I mean come on, have you looked at me?" I cock my head a little to the side.

"I know I was..."

"What am I saying, ofcourse you've looked at me, but that's not the point here," I continue, pretty proud of how calm I manage to keep my voice. "The point is, I'm just not sure this is going to work. You're old, I'm gorgeous, you're a cop, and I'm incredibly freaked out that you know my name..." I wave one hand in a circle above my head. "You get the point I'm sure."

"Jason." He looks bewildered, eyes wide and mouth hanging open enough to trap a bear. It's a weird expression for a guy with tear tracks still glistening on his cheeks.

Well there goes my first relationship, ended before love could even bloom...

It would have been a hell of a lot more romantically painful if he'd been a cute blonde girl.

I crab walk slowly towards the door, and his eyes loose a little of that wideness with every step I take. I'm just inching around the couch when he has to talk and ruin it.

"What are you talking about? Ofcourse I know your name Littlewing." He's getting to his feet again, and my brain makes the decision to forget subtlety and get to the door as fast as I can.

My hands clutch around the frame and I launch myself out, but can't hold back the impulse to duck in and make one last point clear.

"The weird pet names too. Next time maybe wait a few months before you drop that bomb."

His face just crumbles and why do I feel like I've just murdered his last shred of hope in the world?

Better question is, why do I feel bad about it?

"Um, thanks for breakfast Mister cop guy, sorry I stabbed you." _Even if you totaly deserved it._

As I leave he pulls out his phone, and I really hope he isn't calling his cop buddies to pay me a visit.

000000000000000

I stake out the block around my apartment for a few hours before I go anywhere near it. There are still some thugs hanging around the place, and I'm really wondering who the hell I messed with to get this kind of response.

Isn't being shot enough retribution for one guy? Maybe I should find their boss and send him a real nice apology gift basket.

One with a huge ass bomb in it.

I wait a few hours, but the guys don't leave and I need to get in there and grab my cash stash so I can get a safe place to sleep tonight, and also some grub as my stomach's constant complaining reminds me.

I'd thrown up all that bacon not long after I'd left officer mcCreepy's place, a waste of a meal, but it's not like I can do anything about it now.

It's almost nightfall, and I'm just considering finding an alley to spend the night in when a scream errupts from the one nearest me and a guy comes running out like his life depends on it.

Probably does, what do I know?

So I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. Sneaking by a bunch of thugs shouldn't be too hard, right?

Except it is too hard, and the second inget my hands on the was of cash I'm picked up by the back of my ratty T-shirt and thrown into the nearest walk with enough force to give me a concussion.

"What's this then?" A grubby hand that's more sausages than fingers pries open the fist I have clenched around my money and

starts counting through the notes while one of his buddies lifts me in a choke hold and slams me against the wall again.

"Covered in a flesh eating disease." I choke out, earning myself another pat on the back from the wall and the barrel of a gun pressed against my head.

"You won't mind me taking it off your hands then," He leans in close, breathing right in my face and, _whoa_ does this guy have bad breath! He interprets my pulling away from him as fear and chuckels deeply. "Seeing as how you won't need it anymore."

"You know the ancient Egyptians believed that dying with no money to your name got you barred from the afterlife."

"Too bad for you kid." He clicks off the safety, and I squeeze my eyes shut in preparation before I realise something a little more pressing thank my lack of admittance at the afterlife.

"Wait, I didn't say that." I blurt out, because I known for a fact that I could come up with a better pre-mortem one liner.

"Hmm?" I'm sure the confused look in his face mirrors mine exactly.

"I did!" That same voice exclaims and suddenly a blur of red green and yellow is flying across the room, ripping my would-be-executioner away from me.

It takes me a few seconds of watching some kid in a colorfull costume beat he snot out of three men three times his size to realize I'm on the floor again, breathing easily and not being held down by anything.

Screw the money, I grab the cold leftovers still sitting by the stove and for the second time in as many days my ads goes flying out that window.

I leave a sizable dent in the dumpster this time, but I don't care, I'm homefree with a carton of three day old Chinese to hold me one till I find something else.

No way in hell am I setting so much as a pinky toe in that part of the city again, not unless they cut the toe off and carry it there themselves. There are just as many equally crummy places I can set myself in that ' _don't'_ have entire gangs gunning for me.

000000000000000

The next day, I wake up surprisingly unharmed on the park bench I passed out after a few hours of wandering. Turns out blood loss is a thing, and I have it, and it's impairing my better judgement.

I yawn and stretch, taking in the whole being aliveness as I close my eyes and tilt my head towards the light breeze. There are some birds singing, a tiny bit of sun peeking through the foul smelling air, I huff a deep breath and lean back on the bench.

A beautiful day to sit and and relax after a life threatening experience or three. At least it would be not for that incessant prickling at the back of my neck.

Somewhere nearby a camera shutter goes off and I open my eyes to kid leaning over me, his smiling face close enough that I can pick out the little flecks of brown in his cyan eyes.

"Hi Jason." He whispers reverently, and raises the camera again, It clicks and the flash goes off right in my face, blinding me.

I'm too scared to move at first, and he just stands there, holding his camera and smilling like Christmas was roling into town early and looping around to come back tomorrow too.

"I'm sorry." He slides along the back of the bench and plops down on the seat next to me. "I should have turned the flash off for such a close shot, but I just ' _had_ ' to take your picture again, I mean it's been so long, and you're taller now. So you still eat your ice cream cone first?"

Yes I do eat my ice cream cone first, but I'm not telling that to the creepy stalker child who knows my name.

"I'm Tim by the way, and I just wanted to say that you've been such an inspiration to me and it is ' _such_ ' an honour to finally meet you." The words come out on a breathless whoosh, and his clammy hand is enthusiastically shaking my numb one.

I let it continue for a few seconds, then yank my hand away and hold it up in a demand (plea) for silence before he can start talking again.

"That's nice... Tim was it?" I keep my eyes on the roots of a dead tree, but it doesn't make the wild glint in his eyes any less terrifying.

Or his sqeaky whisper of. "Robin knows my name!" Any less confusing.

I nod anyway and calmly get up, brushing away some of the dried leaves clinging to my shirt.

Then I run because oh my God I have a creepy stalker who knows Robin and after last night that's pretty fucking terrifying!

A block and a half away I'm panting heavily, leaning against a dumpster and brushing away the glistening sweat that's dropping from my brow.

A chillidog appears in my feild of vision. "You should eat to bring your blood sugar up."

"Holy!" I leap back, throwing the lid of the nearest trash can at the kid balancing on the rim of the dumpster. I'm about two seconds away from uttering a few hail Mary's when the dog is shoved into my gaping mouth.

"You scared Dick when you ran off like that, but it's okay, I know you didn't have the best relationship. You can talk to me about it instead if you want." He sounds sincere too until he lets out a squee and flutters his hands. "I just told Robin he can talk to me!" What makes it even creepier is that he goes back to looking kind and sincere a second later.

I finish off the chillidog, because it's good and I'll probably be dead by the end of the week anyway and 'poisoned by a creepy stalker' is as good a death as any, but the second it's finished I'm running as fast as my feet can take me away from said creepy stalker.

I swear I hear his camera shutter going off again, and the feeling of being watched stays with me all day.


	3. Lighting up

There are these places in Bludhaven that get all the reject foods that no ' _respectable_ ' businesses are willing to risk selling, and in a city where respectable means, ' _we make enough money there's a risk you'd sue for the food poisoning,_ ' that's really saying something.

Half crushed cans, cracked jars , bags peppered with holes and sometimes this weird powder; that's the state you can expect of anything you buy there, and forget the ' _fresh_ ' produce if you want to make it out alive.

The only upside is that the prices are so low the only way you'd pay less is by slapping on your scuba gear and going dumpster diving.

Since I've set up here in Haven these are the kinds of places I get my food .

Or they used to be. See the only problem with something costing very little money, is that it still costs ' _money_ ', and I have zero money, on garbage day. Scuba gear or not, no amount of diving is going to get me fed today, so I wind up doing the only sensible thing a guy in my situation can do.

I break into one of the dirt cheap places, which also have dirt cheap security, and make off with a handful of the first edible thing I see.

It's supposed to be easy, in out and I'm fed for another day.

Only, I've forgotten one very, very important fact of my life over the past few days...

"Littlewing! Wait up!"

Yes, that guy. The crazy cop who's life I had mistakenly saved. The same one who'd kidnapped me, after that had gotten me shot.

"I'm sorry!" I throw the last of my precious cans at him in an attempt to slow down the demon policeman chasing me through the shoddy alleys. "I swear I'll never steal anything ever again!"

I'm normally pretty good at getting away from cops, give me a chance to scale up a building and I'm gone. They'd sometimes fire off a few shots, but none of them have ever been willing to chase me to the rooftops before. Not until officer McCreepy.

I bet he's just been waiting for me to commit some crime so he could have a reason to arrest me and lock me away somewhere for stabbing him with that fork.

I jump over a chain link fence and carry on running. When I take a chance looking back I don't see him, I'm so relieved I could almost cry. Crying will have to wait untill I'm absolutely sure he won't pop up out of the ground like a demented mole rat.

The fence clinks loudly and this time I'm way too out of-my-mind terrified to look back. I tell myself it's just the wind, a dog, the vengeful spirit of my tenth reincarnations father in law out to get me for not comming back as a squirrel and reconnecting with his daughter. Anything, anything but...

Creepy cop guy flys over my head like a fucking bird and lands soundlessly in front of me, maybe he did make a sound and I just didn't hear it over the ungodly shriek that tore itself from my throat.

I throw one arm over my eyes and even though my legs feel like jelly and I can't see where I'm going, I keep on running.

Officer McCreepy's saying something again, but I dont care, I'm just about ready to start screaming for help on the off chance someone in this hellscape will hear me and save me from the flying demon cop.

What about that Nightwing guy, he likes being a hero, right? I take in a deep breath to call out of him, but knock into something soft and squishy before I get the chance and I'm catapulted back, slamming into the ground.

"Whaddaya think you're doin kid?!"

I'm on my ass, trying to rub some feeling into the arm that's covered in scrapes from the sidewalk when I look up and see another cop. This one in uniform and covered in the coffee I'd made him spill all over himself.

I'm about to get up and run again when...

"Jason!'

I shriek, startling the cop into loosing the rest of his coffee and jump to my feet, putting him between me and his deranged co-worked.

"Save me!" I cry , wrapping my arms around his ample midsection. "He's said he's gonna hide me in his walls!" It's a lie, but this way I've at least got a shot at getting away before he figures me out.

He starts talking into his radio, but I don't hear a thing he says. My whole being is too focused on the man walking slowly down the alley I'd basically rocketed out of earlier.

"Hey, Officer Greenwood." McCreepy is walking towards us in his pressed uniform with two cups of coffee in his hands and not a hair out of place. "Thanks for finding my little bro for me, I've been looking for him all morning." He splays a hand over his chest and pulls the most ridiculously endearing puppy eyes I've ever seen in my life.

"Bastard." I bite out, tightening my grip on Greenwood.

"Don't be rude Jay, come on now." His grip is like a vice when he grabs me around my hips and begins pulling me back.

"Don't let me him take me!" I sqeeze the poor tubby officer harder, and he sucks in a breath so high pitched I think it's an error message.

"Let go!" McCreepy tugs harder, but I dont let go.

No way in hell am I letting go, ever, I'll assimilate myself into a growth in this guys back, but never, ever, ever will I ever let the creepy guy get me alone.

I don't care if we're attracting an audience of very angry cops.

Wait, did he say brother?

00000000000000

'... _you are a dancing queen young and free only seventeen_...'

I'm strapped to the passenger seat of McCreepy's cop car, staring longingly at the passing city where I'd lived half the life I remember, and realise there's not much to miss.

Maybe I should move somewhere else, maybe Metropolis... Nah Superman kinda creeps me out.

I dont really mind that I've been kidnapped either. Kid alone, in a big city, who can't keep his nose out of other people's business and was dumb enough to go to a cop for help with another cop... Did this even count as kidnapping?

'... _you can dance, you can jive_...'

It's just, I kinda hoped the soundtrack would be a little less...

"See that girl! Watch that sceeeene..." Oh great, he's singing along now too, and leaning against me till I'm pressed to the locked door in my poor attempt at putting some distance between us. Digging the dancing queeeeeen!"

It's times like these, when your cop kidnapper is belting out the lyrics to one of the peppiest songs ever written, right after he's narrowly saved you from a face full of pepper spray, while he plans to drop you off in the middle of nowhere. Doomed to make your way in the wild that you have to ask yourself that all important question:

How much am I _'really'_ willing to do for the occasional chilli-dog? Like, take away the food, and the... Let's be real, the only thing I have left to live for right now is food, and my complaining stomach is reminding me that I don't even have that.

I take one last look as the car slows down, then shut my eyes tightly, flinging open the car door, "Give me food or give me death!" I yell and throw myself out the car, hoping for the liberty part maybe a smidge more.

The wind rushes by my face for a second and I expect pain, I expect to go rolling down the street and eventually waking up in hospital and being told off by that weird lady who'd paid my hospital bills the last time. Then I'd find another apartment in some other city and start over. I expect...

"Hi there, can I get you anything?" A bored looking man in a parked ice cream truck frowns down at me.

Immediately I crawl under the van, and I almost make it to the other side and my sweet, sweet, freedom, but the cop grabs my feet and drags me back. At this point I've pretty much screamed myself out for the rest of the day, so I only offer the very minimal protest of being as much of a dead weight as possible.

"Geez Jayce, you'll give people a heart attack doing things like that." The cop hauls my limp form into the car and firmly clips my seatbelt in place before leaning over me to talk to Icecream Man. "Two double scoops please, one chocolate and one neapolitan." He waves two fingers while he speaks and grins like a little kid.

The standards for kidnappers have really gone down in the last few years, haven't they? Oh well, at least I get an ice cream out of it. I don't want to know why he got me neapolitan, I can pretend it was a fluke, right? Ima just shut down my brain for a few minutes and enjoy this.

"So I've been thinking about what you said." The cop was saying, taking such a huge bite of his ice cream that I'm surprised it doesn't give him brainfreeze. "And, I thought you were just mad at me for not being there for you sooner."

"Uh huh." I'm crunching on the bottom of the cone, it's a sugar cone, sweet and crunchy and chocolate coated with just a hint of cinnamon.

"But then I thought some more, and I actually feel like such an insensitive idiot for putting you thought that, when I of all people should know how it feels to need your space." He sighes deeply, knotting a hand in his hair, with the most self defeating frown I've ever seen.

And hey, the ice cream's put me in a way better mood so I think I owe him at least a little encouragement for that admission. "You don't have to feel that had about it." I say, and I'm treated to a hope filled smile that makes me think maybe I've encouraged him too much and and leap to make sure he doesn't get any ideas. "I mean, nice guy like you, you're probably used to all kinds of people throwing themselves at your feet. I'll never be interested, but I'm sure you'll eventually find someone just as..." I catch sight of myself in the mirror, "... almost as good as me if you keep trying."

"Aw Jayce, is that why you've been hiding in this city all alone?" He sobs , and shakes his head like I just told him his best friend's poodle has a malignant tumor. "Did you think you'd been replaced?"

The fuck is wrong with this guy? I eye what's left of my ice cream suspiciously, knowing that in Bludhaven it's not unheard of for street vendors to drug there produce. Attract more customers in an unforgiving profession you know?

"I did mention the thing with nicknames, didn't I?" I ask, looking for a way to discreetly toss out the ice cream.

"Right, sorry." He brushes some liquid from his eyes, snifffling pathetically. "You barely know me, I shouldn't..." He uses his napkin to loudly blow his nose.

Oh my God, again, what is wrong with this guy, how has he survived so long in this city? I eye the locked door again, considering a retry of my previous escape plan.

"I'm just so sorry. Have you been alone all this time? I get you don't want to stay with me, or at the manor, but I'm just so grateful I ran into you in that alley, you know?" His napkin is soaked and I grudgingly hand him mine - sticky fingers are better than getting his snot all over me when he tries to touch me again - which just sets him off wailing more.

"Me too." I'm loosing interest in this whole situation, ice cream is melting all over my shirt, and is it bad that I just want him to drop me off so I can get home already.

Apparently he interprets my words differently from how I do, because he's staring at me again, his blue eyes wide and so hopeful they might have been ripped from a starved puppy getting it's first taste of steak.

Staring at me and not the fucking road!

"Truck!" I shriek, throwing my ice cream at the windshield just as we swerve out of the path of certain death. "Do you want me to die?!" I clutch my chest, afraid that with my rapidly beating heart, it's still an option via cardiac arrest.

Heh, dying of an _arrest_ in a cop car.

"No!" He's gripping my shoulders and shaking me. "Why do you keep saying things like that? Nobody wants you to die ever again."

I can't speak with my head snapping back and forth like it is, but he's being fucking weird again and scarring the snot out of me because he's taken his hands off the wheel, so I try anyway even if all that comes out is a series of grunts.

He some how manages to park the car with only one of his feet and his hands move to cup my face, which is infinately more freaky that the shaking from before, but his hands are squishing my cheeks so I know any attempts speaking would be just as unintelligible.

"I've organised a place for you, a school, where you'll be safe and away from the whole nightlife, but close enough that we can protect you. We were so worried you were going to get hurt. You know this precious..."

"Wait, preciouse?" I squeeze the words out and throw him away from me, scrambling to unlock the door without taking my eyes of him. "Us? Yeah no, sorry Smeagol, but I'm not interested, I can take care of myself, so just stay the fuck away from me before I..." fuck I can't threaten to call the cops, "...get _real_ mad." I finish lamely.

He reaches for me, but I get the door open and throw myself out before he can touch me again with his creepy hands. I hear him calling for me to come back, and the car starting up, but I ignore him and run my ass off.

Man I've been getting a lot of exercise lately, I mean damn am I gonna have some sweet thighs when this is all over. Actually, I'm too scrawny for that to work. Maybe I should pig out more, put on some weight then again I'd need money for that.

It's nightfall by the time I feel I've put enough distance between us to feel safe, or safe-ish at least.

I sink down in the nearest alley and try to catch my breath, really missing my tiny apartment right then, and thinking that maybe I ' _should_ ' get myself put in hospital again, free food and a T.V and those nice nurses who feed me whenever I ask. Man that was the life.

Overhead I see a figure leap across the gap between buildings and frown.

Hero huh, fucking useless. Where was that douche when I was being hunted down by a weird cop and literally screaming for help.

I wrap my arms arounf myself as I shiver and try to ignore the weird smells permeating the alley. I'll figure something out in the morning.

000000000000000

Morning finds me on lock up in a holding cell that smells even worse than the alley. Don't ask me how I got here, because I'm really not all that clear on the details myself.

I kind of remember seeing that Nightwing guy again and hearing a feint hissing sound... It's all pretty vague really, but next think I know, some cops are shoving me into the back of a truck for possesion.

To be fair I'm pretty sure they would have let me go after a quick search proved I didn't have anything illegal on me, exept my whole self but thats a whole other story. Me being me, however, I just had to make a crack about calling an exorcist if they were so sure I was possessed.

That didn't end well and one of them ' _found_ ' a bag of heroin on me. You'd think if they didn't have a sense of humour they could at least tolerate a joke. One of them must have been around when I nearly squeezed that fat cop to death trying to get away from McCreepy, that's the only explanation I can think of.

Now I'm stuck in this holding cell and that office lady is he times as creepy as any of these cops.

I try not to make eye contact, really I do, but there's just something so eye-catching about her I can't take mine off her for more than a few seconds without turning away and watching the cops mill about in their little offices.

Maybe this is karma's way of paying me back for ditching that cop twice already. Now that I think about it, it's entirely possible that cop put me in here with that guy out of some twisted need for vengeance.

The thought has my blood boiling and suddenly I'm not afraid anymore. I've survived worse than snotty, stuck up office ladys, and no way am I giving McCreepy the satisfaction of seeing me freaked out.

Crossing my arms and squaring my scrawny shoulders, I don't have to take the scowl that graces my face when I turn away from the bars to inspect my fellow prisoners.

Let's see, we've got a guy with frankestein tattoos all over his body, a moustached man in a fitted suit, a gigantosaur with more piercings than an eighties metal band and... me. Okay, I didn't notice before that one of them's a mobster, but I can deal.

With a scoff I spin on my heel and look back at the world beyond the bars, sweat beading on my skin as I try to contain the high pitched keening sound building at the back of my throat.

Goddamn, what if they're all working gor the mobster? Taking on all of them at once would be a hell of a fight, as in a fight that will end with me in hell. Even if my cell mates aren't enough to kill me, the armed cops on the other side of these bars most definitely are.

There's some loud not-exactly-shouting, and I squeeze my head through the bars to get a better look, might as well put my comparative smallness to use, huh?

A whole flock of cops is walking towards the cell. I hear a familiar voice and pray to whatever deity will hear me out in the vast cosmos that it isn't who I think it is.

"Hey there little guy, heard you got yourself into some trouble last night."

Apparently the cosmos hates me, because Cop is breaking away from the rest of the group and smiling as he crouches down in front of the cell.

"Whatsit to ya?" I try to look tough, like I don't give a damn about the way his continued presence is messing with my head. But oh my God, my head is bigger than I thought and I've gotten it stuck in the bars. Fuck.

"You know, none of this has to happen." His innocent smile just makes the whole thing even more fucked up. "If you'd just heard, you could have been in a nice warm bed at that school by now."

"Mother..." my curse is cut of when I try to stand a little straighter and only won't up yanking my head painfully against the bars. "Ow." I say, then immediately cover it up with a growl. "You set me up you peice of shit."

He has the gall to get this wide eyed Bambi look, pointing a finger at himself and even looking behind his shoulder as if he honestly thinks I could be talking to anyone else.

"Yeah you." I growl and try to make a grab for him though the bars, he just sits there, comfortably out I my reach and smiles at me. "This shit is like, illegal!" Not that I have a whole lot of experience in that field, but I know that I sure as hell know planting evidence gets cops fired.

"I don't care right now, you've got monsters after you ." He whispers lowly, so the other cops don't hear him, tries to nudge my head through the bars. "You helped me and it's my job to keep you safe."

He grips my head in both hands and I'm about to scream my lungs out when, with a twist and a push, I'm free from the bars and stumbling back into the cell.

I crash right into the mobster, catching only a glimpse of his scowl before I shriek and throw myself at the bars with a massively loud CLANG!

I'm hyperventilating when hands grip my shoulders and rub in soothing circles that send a chill up my spine. "So how about it?"

Office lady waves her fingers at me and winks, a huge smile stretching across her face, if she tries to pinch my cheeks I swear...

"Fine, just get me out of here." I whisper desperately, not taking my eyes off the mob guy.

He hums and leans in closer. "What was that? I didn't hear."

"Fine, I'll go to the fucking school just stop touching me!" I slap his hands away but moving away from him would be moving closer to Monster, so I'm still within his reach.

He jumps to his feet and claps once. "You're so smart." He's humming that fucking pop song again while he gets out a ring of keys.

It's just a school right? Another 'home for troubled boys' type deal?

I can break out if it gets too weird.

"You'll love it, I promise!" The cop throws an arm around my shoulders, already forgetting my ' _no touching_ ' stipulation, not that I ever thought he'd adhere to it, just would have been nice if he pretended to for a little while.

00000000000000

The school is a place called Brentwood, just on the edge of nearby Gotam City, it's far enough from Bludhaven that I'm reasonably sure he won't be popping in every few hours.

Also, it's abso-fucking-lutely _'not'_ a home for troubled boys, but a bonafide, no nonsense rich kid school. Starchy uniforms and everything.

A cab dumps me at the gate with my bag full of school books and a couple of spare uniforms to find my own way along. Not that it's all that hard.

I follow the signs to the administration lugging the bag over my shoulder and trying not to look as out of place as I feel. I mean, those are fountains, at a school, and they don't have a lick of graffiti marring their marble surfaces.

"Jason Peter Todd?" The nice lady at the desk accepts the papers I hand her with way less suspicion than I had.

The cop knowing my first name was weird, but knowing a middle name that even I hadn't remembered till then was just borderline Lovecraftian.

The last just smiles and nods as she types something in to get computer. Seconds later I'm given a glossy card, "the warmest welcome from all the staff" and instructed to ask my roomate about my shudule.

The room is... a room. Bookcase and a whole lot of fancy ass stuff on one side, the other paracally blank. I collapse into the plain bed and look at the ceiling.

Only a few days, I tell myself. Just until I'm sure the cop won't be able to hunt me down when I make my escape.

The door creaks open, but I don't hear any footsteps, so I assume it's just the wind, or someone accidentally opened the wrong door and was too lazy to shut it.

I yawn, my eyes squeezing shut while I stretch broadly.

My hands brush against something on their way down, so lightly that I almost think imagine it untill a puff on mint scented breath hits my face.

I open my eyes slowly, terrified of what might find.

Wide cyan eyes appear inches from mine, and a smile slowly creeps across his face.

"Hi Jason."

"God have mercy on my soul!" I leap back, falling to the floor and stupidly backing myself into a corner. The door is in sight, but he's advancing, blocking my escape.

"We're going to have so much fun." Tim squees and shakes his hands, practically bouncing in the balls of his feet. "Oh my goodness Jason, this is the best day _ever_!"

Oh wow he's annoying.

A little something inside me shrivels up and dies a lonely, lonely death.

I wonder what time dinner is...


	4. Already know

I don't think my life had ever been particularly normal. Not like I have much to compare it to, since I'm not the most social guy Having a hard time so much as looking at most people without wanting to punch them might have a little something to do with that.

It's not like this is the first time I've had to book it out of a city because I pissed off the wrong people. Think I mentioned a time in Star City earlier right?

Anyway, I'm thinking I'm either the luckiest bastard alive, or karma's really out to get me for some unforgivable wrong I've committed in a past life.

Let me explain.

After my last, er, run in with the law, I got sent to this fancy ass school where they feed me, give me a place to sleep, just about everything I need really, and all I have to do is sit on my ass listening to some old guys jabbering on about whatever for like six hours everyday.

That leaves me with like ten hours to do whatever, as long as I don't get into trouble while wearing the uniform.

Downside, a lot of those classes could be bottled and made into state of the art knockout gas, maybe they'd be interesting if they were teaching anything new, but come on, that stuff cant be tenth grade stuff.

I like my snazzy uniform, yeah I look good in anything, but I mean, it's cashmere or something… so soft and smooth I could just hold the fabric of the blazer against my cheek and snooze all day.

Actually that is exactly what I do, all throughout most of those boring ass classes.

Anyway, because I like my uniform so much, I don't really change it out for my torn up old threads much at all, and as you've probably noticed by now, I'm not the kind to stay out of trouble.

Would be kinda nice if that trouble weren't street gangs with knife fetishes though.

"Brentwood kid, aren't ya?"

I groan at the stereotypical thuggish voice without turning round to acknowledge its owner.

I've already been in like six fights just today. When they say Gotham had the highest crime rate in the country, they fucking mean it okay. This place is not a vacation spot, three out of ten stars would not recommend, you got that?

The asshole grabs me by my shoulder and stop walking, multicolored shards of broken glass crunching under my feet. I don't want to risk ripping my uniform by pulling away – I've only got four of these things okay.

"Rude." I shift my hands into my blazer pockets and direct my eyes over my shoulder. "Listen dude, I'm on a curfew and I got like an hour to get back so fuck off." I say it with a smile and everything, so polite.

He looks pissed for a second and his two buddies move to flank him, then he returns my smile, but the blade he flicks out kinda ruins the effect and I drop mine for a blank stare.

"Rich kids like you, thinking you can put down the rest of us." He tosses the knife and catches it again, guy can't be much older than me, not sure how old that is exactly, but still. "Pay up and maybe you only get a little blood on that snazzy suit of yours."

Well, at least the guy's got a good fashion sense. Too bad it doesn't extend to his own choice of clothing.

I begrudgingly turn around, reigning in all off myself control not to punch the guy in his poor attempt at a beard. All of them have knives and bloodstains'll be a bitch to get out of this green blazer. Gotta play this careful. Like a snake charmer gently coaxing a hissing viper out of its attack mode.

"Scholarship kid, sorry." I shrug, at least they don't have guns, means I can maybe talk them out of a fight that'll be ultimately pointless for all of us. I snap my fingers like I've had a grand epiphany. "But hey, you don't turn your stupid ass around and I might just put ya down anyway."

"What the…" Oh look, his eyebrow is twitching, actually his whole body is twitching. Oh god did I give him a seizure? Does giving someone a seizure count as manslaughter? Will manslaughter get me kicked out of school?!

"You need a hospital or something there bud?" I wave a hand in front of his face. "I didn't break your steroid addled brain, right?"

"You." He grinds the word out like it's physically painful for him and I take a step back, just so a have enough distance between us to keep away from that knife. My hands are still in my pockets though and I consider maybe pretending to have a gun in there.

Nah, they look dumb enough to believe me, but also cocky enough to try mugging me for the imaginary weapon.

He lunges forward and I duck neatly out of the way, but like sheep his pals move in to attack as well. Vicious, rabid sheep. With knives. One of them gets a bit close for comfort so I duck, sticking out my leg as I spin and knocking the guys feet out from under him.

There's a gross squelching sound from the dumpster he falls into, he practically leaps out and second later, covered head to toe in some – thankfully – unidentifiable sludge like the swamp monster out of that B grade horror movie I regret watching.

The smells what really gets to me, cause fuck that's disgusting, and no way in the ninth circle of hell am I letting any of that crap get on me. Way my luck's been going it'll probably turn me into some half baked supervillian.

"Okay, now you're ugly and need a bath." I say helpfully, shuddering as some of the sludge drips into his mouth. Fuck, all I did was look at it and I think I feel like I need a bath, and a tube of extra strength toothpaste too, more than one tube of extra strength toothpaste.

I'm still trying to figure out a way to win this thing without getting dirty when something flies out of the shadows, lithe and black, it swooshes past and knocks out the one closest to me with a spray of nose-blood that I have to remove my hands from my pockets to shield my face from.

The other is slammed into a wall and sludgy gets sent back to the dumpster where he will ultimately mutate into the larval form of whatever will be taking over the world in the near future. I consider moving over and pledging my allegiance in advance, but the black thing slips between me and the dumpster.

I'm ready to at least attempt going down fighting, but she – oh it's a she – doesn't attack.

"You are okay?" She caresses my head in her hands and gently turns it from side to side. That's weird, but weirder still is when she's tilting her head to the side like she's listening for something, then pats my head a few times. "Wait."

It feels like maybe waiting would be a good idea, but like every good idea a think I have, there's just something nagging at the back of my brain.

I take a few seconds to listen to mcSludge and his friends' high-pitched groans. Then I shuffle my feet and look down at my watch. Aw hell I've got like an hour to get back before I miss curfew.

My eyes move between the time, the creature to which I might still pledge my allegiance and the general direction in which the creepy girl disappeared.

"Fuuuuuuck." I draw out the word as I spin on my heel and high tale it out of there.

Being out of favor with the sludge overlord and getting my ass kicked by the weird ninja chick are distant possibilities. Missing curfew on my first night out could be a literal disaster.

By the time I make it back to Brentwood, my legs are numb and my lungs are those of a smoker on his deathbed. Still, as the gates close behind me with a final clang, I can honestly say I've never felt better in my life.

Have to have broken some kind of speed record to make it on time, they're gonna have to find some other reason to kick me out, cause missing the stupid curfew aint ever gonna be one of em.

And that reason might just be the bloodstain marring the front of my blazer. Fuck it.

x

x

x

The laundry room is dark, damp and creepier than any alley, smells a little better but not by much.

Same dumbass dress code that gives me the fancy ass uniform also mandates that I keep the stupid fucking thing clean. Unlike most of the kids that come here, I have neither parents to foist the thing off on, nor the money to just buy myself a new one.

So I'm stuck, by myself, in the creepy ass basement close to midnight while I try and make sense of the instructions on a bottle of stain remover.

I don't know why they're in German, I don't know how I can kind of read German, and I don't know how I let the skill slip so far that I can only kind of read the German.

What I do know is that I need to presoak the blazer in another product of the same brand and that I can't find that product anywhere.

The room is empty, so empty in fact that I'm considering using it as my personal hidey hole. There are long cabinets lining all of the walls, all filled with strong smelling detergents that I doub t are for students usage. Bet if a get creative I can make some kind of bomb out of…

"Hi Jason."

The fancy German soap flies from my hand, splattering all over the floor as a shriek that is definitely not mine bounces through the walls.

"Hello Timothy." I scowl as soon as my heart rate is back to normal and storm past him to retrieve the soap.

My little one-man fan club. Kid follows me around campus all fucking day long, and no that we have all the same classes doesn't make that okay.

Can't say I don't know what he sees in me , not to brag but I'm like the most amazing I know. (No I don't know any other people, but what does that have to do with anything.)

Really, though, I don't know what the fuck this kid sees in me.

"I guess you didn't get the note about the diner." He peers at the stain as I scrub, foregoing the presoaking, because who the fuck had time for that shit anyway?

I'd eaten my dinner in this little nook I found behind the wall surrounding the campus, because the cafeteria in this place is fucking packed and there are was not one empty table anyway.

"Bruce sent a car, to get you, and he got all worried, cause we couldn't find you anywhere, then Cass called in but…"

Huh, this blotch looks kind of like a smiley face, I scrub at it a little more vigorously. It's the blazers fault I'm stuck here in the first place burning my hands in soap that I'm only now realizing is labeled as machine wash only, it doesn't get to smile.

My stalker is jabbering in about how I don't know Cass, and how she can be scary, and I almost chuckle at that, because if he knew the kind of things I'd seen he'd know how whatever girl he was talking about wouldn't even faze me.

Apparently she was really looking forward to meeting me, but what girl wouldn't be. Look at me, being all domestic, getting the blood from my kick ass fight out of my own snazzy blazer. Trying to get the blood out, fuck it's still smiling at me.

"Can't you see I'm fucking busy?!" I wave my hand at the article of clothing in the basin. "I don't have time to fucking play with you now.

"You could have asked Alfred to get it out for you, I mean, he really wanted to see you tonight Jason, why didn't you come."

"Who's that, the laundry master?" I ask, wishing for a moment that I had gotten that sludge on me so I could develop heat vision and burn the stain away. "Cause you gotta tell him to get soap with instructions that are actually in English."

I angrily waved my hand, splattering the burning suds clinging to it all over the floor.

He chuckles, I just told some great fucking joke. "He'll wash out your mouth with…"

I rub at my tired eyes and shoot him a glare. "Anyone in this place tries to get soap near my mouth and I'll fucking end them." I'm too tired for this shit, so I abandon the blazer in the basin and turn to leave. I've got three others that are more reasonable, and thus more worthy of my love.

By the time classes are over tomorrow it'll either be stain free, or have come to life in that soap's toxic fumes and be some superheroes problem. Either way I'm going to bed.

Tim appears in front of me again and I fucking swear I'm going to die young of a heart attack if this keeps up.

"What do you want now you freakish little child?" I demand.

"Barbara Gordon." He says, his face so close to mine I could stick out my tongue and lick his nose. Not that I'll do it, because ew, but I could if I wanted to… maybe I will, later, see how he likes being creeped out. "Alfred Pennyworth. Dick Grayson. Eddie Bloomberg." He looks more and more desperate with each name he spits out.

"Sorry kid, if this is some memorizing the faculty game, you've lost me already." God I'm tired, and I think I've humored him enough for one night. Don't want him to get any ideas about being study buddies or something when I can barely get away from him as it is.

His voice cracks, his next words not even a shadow of his normally chipper tone. "Bruce Wayne?"

Okay that name, that one gets me. Gives me this weird feeling like I got a string tied around my heart and fuck, it might just strangle me. I must have gotten that soap in my eyes because they're prickling like a porcupine with a sewing kit and an acupuncture degree.

I don't answer him, brushing away the liquid, carrying on my merry way to bed where I can smother myself in that soft green pillow with the ridiculously high thread count and I can wake up to creamy oatmeal and another day of sitting on my ass listening to teachers tell me stuff I already know.

If the stalker crawls into his bed that night I don't see him, but the nest day the blazer I thought I'd ruined is draped over my desk.

It smells like lavender and something else that kind of makes me think of England. Maybe that Alfred guy found it taking up space in his laundry room, who knows.

I take one deep whiff of it and hang it carefully in my closet, not to preserve the smell, I'm not some weirdo that does shit like that, it's just… maybe it came to life last night, cleaned itself and is now baiting me into putting it on so it can take over my body and eventually the world.

I just don't want an evil, lavender smelling blazer to take over the world, that's all.


	5. Lost things

I was thankfully still in Gotham. We were all in Gotham last night, waiting for Jason to come back to the manor. The first few hours we thought, hoped that maybe he just hadn't gotten the message we'd left in his room yet.

Only, when we tried again he hadn't been at the school since he'd eaten dinner there.

We worried, of course we did. No one would pass up on Alfred's pot roast, and that left only one viable option.

Someone or something had to have gotten to him before he'd made it home, and he was out there, somewhere all alone in the most dangerous city in the country.

When Cass's call came through I could have cried in relief. He was fine, maybe just forgot the way. There 'had' been an earthquake since he'd last been in Gotham.

Batgirl took care of the people who'd tried to hurt him and he would soon safe at home where we could wrap him up and feed him and keep him away from all the people out in that city who would have wanted to be anything less than kind to such a harmless innocent little child.

"Where's Dick!" I hear as I run down the long flights of stairs leading to the cave below, taking them four at a time.

"I'm here!" I shout as I skid to a stop in front of the batcomputer where the worried faces of Barbara and Cass look back. "What do you need me to do? Where is he? Do you think maybe he'll fell better if we bring him that fluffy blanket from the…"

"Calm down!" Bruce says, slamming his palms on the keyboard, inputting a bunch of gibberish letters on the a separate monitor that somehow spells out the word 'justice' over and over again, before looking back at the main screen. "First we have to figure out if why he doesn't remember, if it has to do with his resurrection or something else entirely, and what other consequences it could have down the line. Until then we can't afford to stress him out."

"Because it'll undo whatever brought him back?!" I gasp, hands balled into fists in front of my face.

"Zatanna thinks it might, and also that shit is traumatizing enough." Babs says, her face quickly morphs into horror as she turns to Cass and covers the girl ears. "You never repeat that word okay!"

Bruce nods sagely and taps a button, after a few milliseconds Tim's harried face appears on the screen. He's sitting at a desk writing so fast his hand is a blur.

"Tim are you making sure Jason's not stressed out?"

"I'm trying my best Bruce, but he's just so stressed out here. I can't believe I didn't notice it before. His homework was stressing him out, then this car with tinted windows drove by and he thought the government was coming to abduct him for reconditioning, because he displeased the overlord. Then he couldn't find a pencil sharpener and he was so worried he didn't have weapon to face them off with, and the stress made him pass out in class! And the teacher yelled at him, and he looked so confused Bruce, like he didn't even know where he was. I took care of everything but the teacher."

"The things he must have gone through for the world to frighten him so much." Bruce growls out, shaking his head. "The injustice of it all. It's a wonder he ever leaves his room."

"He's such a tough little guy." I choke the words out. To think he was all alone in my city, right under my nose for so long and I didn't even notice until I went and got him tangled up with the mob.

"Wait. I think I hear him coming. I'll go see if he needs anything else." Tim disappears from view and we hear his voice coming from off-screen. "Hi Jason."

There's a shriek – aw Jason must have found a girlfriend – then a handful of pencils are thrown at the camera.

"You want me to sharpen these too?" Tim say's popping back into view and gathering up the pencils.

"One of us should go talk to him." I say. "He'd feel better if he knew how many people love him."

"I can go?" Cass raises one hand.

"There's no need. Tim is already doing a fabulous job." Bruce says.

"We're science partners." Tim says proudly, arranging the newly sharpened pencils by size. "But he's not really making friends here, maybe he'll remember you Bruce."

"Bruce is the most stressful person I know." Babs said. "It might make him run off where we'll never find him again."

"He was okay with me until my driving scared him off." I say, and oh how I regret that. If I had gotten my excitement at finding him again under control maybe he wouldn't have ended up in that cell. I still have to find a way to make sure the officers who put him there suffer for it.

"Better than letting him think he's been abandoned in this ungodly city to fend for himself." Bruce sighs. "Go."

"I'll just take him for ice-cream again." I say as I turn to leave, not wasting another second.

What kid doesn't like ice-cream, right?

.

.

.

I could have pulled Jason out of classes, but I know he likes school, so I wait until lunchtime to go looking for him.

It only takes me a few minutes to spot him, not chatting with other students or studying like all the other kids, but hiding behind a tree. He looks so anxious, peeking out and fiddling with something in his pocket.

At first I'm confused, then I notice the nick on his cheek and I feel anger bubble up in my chest. Someone had to have out that cut there, someone he's hiding from.

Bullies.

I get myself under control before I march up to him, I'm not quiet but he still doesn't notice me until I'm right on top of him. The he spins around, his mouth parting as though to scream (Who could have made him so scared!?) but calms down almost immediately.

"McCreepy." He nods stoically and takes a step back. "Fuck, they call you to kick me…"

"What happened." I ask gesturing towards his cheek and resisting the urge to pull him into a hug now that I'm close enough to reach for him again. He's alive and breathing and walking and staring at me with his wide blue eyes and some little punk scratched up his cheek! "Tell who hurt you and I'll deal with them."

"Er…" He looks back at the school building just as a trio of boys exit, accompanied by a teacher.

"There he is!" One of the boys, (twice Jason's size!) points as they move towards us. "That new kid! He said he was going to knock us out and bury us alive in the cemetery."

The boys are all wearing identical smug expressions when the teacher raises a finger, glaring at the smaller boy. Pushing him behind me and out of sight I step towards the little group.

"Dick Grayson?" She gapes up at me and I smile.

"Look how scared my little brother is, can you believe he'd make a threat like that?" I catch him directing a glare at the other boy's who've resorted to hiding behind their teacher. He looks like a little kitten staring down a bear, and they'd better know they're in trouble for hurting him.

"It's only fair you hear his side of the story too, right?" She waves a hand at him and he moves so he's more hidden behind me.

"They tried to take my lunch, and I made them suffer for it." He says with an adorable little pout.

"Boys?" She turns to the others with a questioning look.

"It wasn't worth a carton of chocolate milk!" Their leader speaks up. "Who says things like that?"

"Who gets two friends to beat on a kid half his size?" I ask, and Jason's looking at me now, instead of them, his face visible enough that the teacher can see his scratched up cheek. "This never would have happened if we'd out him in Gotham Academy instead." I shake my head and reach for him."

"I assure you they don't happen at Brentwood either." The teacher says. "You boy's should have more than enough, there's no need to be stealing from other students." She turns to me. "You can assure Mister Wayne this matter will be dealt with."

"Good." I say, pinning the boys with the same glare that terrifies the criminals of Bludhaven as the teacher herds them towards the building. Only once they're gone do I turn back to Jason, whose chewing on his bottom lip.

God, if something brought him back just to mess with us when they take him away again he'd be helpless.

"You shouldn't let guys like that push you around Littlewing." I say, pulling a miniature first aid kit out of my coat pocket. "I know you could have taken them."

"And give em another reason to kick me out?." He flinches away when I apply some antiseptic to the cut, there's a pencil streak at the edge that makes it look longer than it is, but I cover it with a green band aid before I get a close look at it. "No fucking way, I've been on my best behavior since I got here."

"We'd never let you get kicked out for defending yourself, but it's very mature of you to not resort to violence." I say. It's good to encourage your younger siblings, and this time around I'm not just giving him my number and an old costume. No costumes period. "Seeing as how they took your lunch, you wanna go grab a bite somewhere else?"

He levels his blank stare at me, muttering something under his breath that I don't catch, then his eyes shift and his whole body goes tense.

"Kay fine, let's go." He starts pushing me towards the gate. "You'll okay it with the office people, right?"

Tim gives me a thumbs up from nearby and I shoot one back.

.

.

.

His eyes are flickering every which way as he finishes off five corn dogs in quick succession. He's supposed to be turning eighteen in a few months, would have been, and he's still a head shorter than me. He'd always been a pretty short kid, but I can't shake the feeling he should have been a lot bigger by now.

He wouldn't have grown during the time he'd been dead would he, how long has he been alive by now? As soon as the thought passes through my head I feel sick. He's not dead, he's putting away enough food to rival Wally, and glaring at everything and anything that gets to close.

"So you like the school?" I ask to distract myself, and his suspicious frown turns in me.

"They feed me." He says like that's the only answer that matters.

"Not the classes?" Bruce used to go on and on about how much Jason loved school, but now he just shrugs.

"Pass my tests." Suddenly his glare turns on me full force, his cheeks bulged out from all the food he'd stuffed his mouth with. "All my tests and if that kid says I made him do my homework he's fucking lying, he did it all by himself." He jabs a finger in my direction.

"Maybe you should join a club." I suggest. "Make some new friends, have some fun."

He averts his gaze from me and blows bubbles into his milkshake, mumbling something about the zombie apocalypse under his breath.

"What's wrong, you don't like that flavor?" I reach for the milkshake. "I can get you a different one."

"No!" He slaps my hand away, then looks up at me as he clutches the drink to his chest. "It's mine." He blinks up at me, then looks from me to the drink, to the corn dog stand we'd gotten the food from. "Can I have another one anyway?"

"Can you finish another one?" I ask, because that seems like a responsible thing to ask, and if I take him back to the school sick, I'm not sure they'll let me take him out again.

He continues blowing into his current milkshake and gives me the same blank stare Raven used to direct at Gar, so I cave and buy him another milkshake. I figure he's a smart kid and knows too many sweets are bad for him.

On the way back to the school I have to pull over so he can empty the contents of his over filled stomach into the nearest trashcan while I'm tasked with keeping his blazer clean at all costs.

"You said you could handle it." I say, not sure whether I should fell bad or vindictive.

"Said I could finish it." He flips me the bird and glares at a passerby who looks at him too closely, muttering again.

Talking to himself that much can't be healthy. First thing on the agenda is finding the kid some friends, asap. He straightens up, brushing his hand across his mouth and drawing my attention to the band-aid on his cheek. Preferably friends who can chase off bullies. Hero friends,

"Ready to head back?" I hand him his blazer and he slips it on before straightening his tie and fixing his collar.

It's actually kind of easy to see how people would think he's an easy target. Yeah, we're definitely scratching up someone to watch out for him, it's not like Tim can do it twenty-four seven. Maybe that penpal he used to have.


	6. Far ahead

He was everywhere. I would have sworn on the worlds grave that the kid had some kind of weird superpower for knowing where I was and following me around, no matter the time of day. Now he just isnt.

The school is mostly empty, everyone having gone off on their Saturday whatevers and leaving the halls bare, including my freaky little stalker.

Now don't get, me wrong, I like it. I can't feel eyes on the back of my head, and I only flinch a little when I turn corners, and oh hey looks there's something shiny peeking out from under that vending machine!

I drop to my stomach to investigate and spot a few coins of differing values lodged a little too far for my hand to reach. It takes me a second to remember the handful of extremely sharp pencils in the inner pocket of my blazer. 'He sharpened those pencils. Bet he also would have been able to reach them with his tiny stalker hands.

Doesn't matter, I can get to them with the pencils, scrape them towards me. It's not much, just enough for a bag of chips, and that's enough for me. I almost let out a victorious cry when I get up to my knees, but it turns into something that is not a shriek when I see someone standing in front of me.

Oh, god, this is what I get for starting to miss…

Wait, he's screaming too…

I look up, and instead of a ghost face and dark hair is a red head with a freckled face.

"Why are we screaming? Are we under attack?" He asks, looking about a second from running.

I jump to my feet and clear my throat, then easily slide my handful of coins into the slot and pick a bag of chips at random.

"Thought you were someone else."

"Oh." He looks aside and awkwardly shoves his hands inside the pockets of a blazer that's at least a size too big for him. "So…"

I ignore him in favor of chewing fishing chips out of the bag. He's watching me with this weird look on his face, but I figure that this once I maybe kind of, in a tiny way deserve it this once.

"I'm Eddie." He thrusts out a hand and I take a hasty step back just in case he is weird and wants to stab me… hey the way my life's been lately he could be working for the gang I pissed off back in Bludhaven.

"Okay." I see the hand is still hovering between us, no weapons in sight and after a couple more awkward seconds I bring mine up to give what will forever be known as the worlds shortest handshake. "What do you want?"

"Well, I uh, just got here, and I don't know anyone yet, and you're alone, so I figured maybe we could…"

My chips are tomato flavored; I guess I should have checked before I bought them, because literally anything would have been better. I'm not picky enough to toss the bag, but I would have liked my luck to shift just this once and give me something good.

"Hey, why were you scraping for coins under the vending machine anyway? Isn't your Dad super rich?" Oh, he's still talking.

I'm about to laugh at him, maybe mock him a little for thinking that, but I realize that my blazer is ' _not_ ' a size too big, and I actually know how to fasten my tie, and I'm standing in the hallway of a very expensive, very private boarding school.

"No." I shove another chip in my mouth and turn to walk away, find something else to do now that I'm free from the presence of my stalker.

"Hey, wait up." It takes a couple of seconds, but I hear his rapid footsteps as he jogs to catch up to me. "You're supposed to give me your name too, aren't you?"

"Jason." I say and toss the empty chip bag over my shoulder to land in a nearby wastebasket while I keep walking. I'm bored, I realize with a start. I don't have to find jobs for money for food, or worry about rent.

There's no need for me to sneak around to avoid my stalker in a bazaar game of hide and seek. A quick look at the street beyond the ornate metal fencing around the school shows no cop cars.

"I'm bored." I turn to the guy following me. Eddie, his name was, and if he's following me, then he must be bored too.

"Have you ever watched Annabel?" He asks, tearing his eyes away from the wastebasket I hadn't noticed he'd been staring at.

No I have never watched Annabel, I have no idea what that is, but it doesn't sound too bad, so I shake my head.

Three hours later it's dark, I'm alone in my room, and I should not have watched Annabel.

.

.

.

The only discernable difference between my Saturday morning and my Sunday morning is that I got absolutely zero fucking sleep the night before and I'm about to fall asleep in my oatmeal.

Eddie drops into the seat beside me with his own breakfast, all smiles like he didn't spend the night staring at his floor and hoping a scary ass little demon doll wouldn't look back at him.

"Hey, so wadaya you wanna do today?" He asks, scooping up a spoonful of oatmeal to shove in his mouth.

"Don't you have a Mommy to run home to on the weekends?" I reply and he goes very still next to me. Oh god, I think for a second that he ' _does_ ' see an evil doll out for our souls. The he speaks and I maybe feel even worse than if that were true.

"My parents don't want me." He's stirring his oatmeal around now, his eyes dulled over. "I used to stay with my aunt, but now she's gone and there used to be her old…"

"Okay, fuck." I cut him off. I have a feeling this could be worse than the cop in the alley, but I figure that didn't end in a torturous death, not yet anyway. "No mommy, I get it." I toss some more sugar into my oatmeal in the hopes it will was the bitter taste out of my mouth. "What do ' _you_ ' wanna do?"

His eyes light up and I really hoped he wouldn't turn out too weird.

.

.

.

I'm not sure where we are, but it's uncomfortably familiar. The buildings are all too shiny, cars aren't honking as much as they should be, and we just walked past an apartment complex with a doorman that actualley said hello to us.

"What the fuck." I whisper as soon as we've turned away from the place.

"And then they said I couldn't join the team, the club, because my suit didn't work so good anymore, and I was looking for a way to get ' _something'_ that would make me useful again, but then he said he'd pay for me to go to this school, and…"

This guy realley likes to talk, like a lot, like more than me on a good day a lot. Least it makes it easy to keep track of him, we come up near an alley and I pause, more out of habit than anything. Even a place as fancy as this has to have someone waiting around to make a quick buck, and… bingo.

"Eddie, I need to borrow your shoe." I say, holding out a hand, but not taking my eyes off the alley.

He lets out a confused hum, but hands the item over, and a take a quick step forward to help with momentum as I throw it into the darkness.

There's a shout of pain, then a crash, and someone falls from behind a pile of trash. I'm about to go in and retrieve the shoe, but Eddie grabs my arm and holds me back.

"Wait, I'll go get it." He sprints in and retrieves his footwear, then returns to my side with barely a glance at the stunned man, who's still got a dull knife in his hand.

"Geez Jason, you coulda warned me first, what if he jumped out and stabbed you or something, huh?" he hurries away with me, looking around worriedly. "You know, he coulda, and you would have been ' _dead_ '." He paused to look behind us again. "Again."

"Yolo kid." I say, and notice were near the parking lot of a big grocery store. They're selling waffles at the entrance. You now when last I had waffles I didn't eat out of plastic packaging? I don't, only remember one time, and I was in the hospital doped up on pain meds, so that doesn't count.

"Okay listen." He's standing in front of me, hands held up to keep me from moving forward. "They told me not to tell you, but we're friends right?"

"We've know each other for about twelve hours, but okay." I say, man those smell good, there's he phantom memory of a pasty taste in my mouth, but I can ignore it.

"Listen, I can get in trouble for this, so you can't tell anyone, but I used to be a super hero." He's watching me for a reaction, and I don't really have one for him.

Just my luck the one person I can kind of get along with for more than two minutes is one of those kids that read too many comic books.

"Er, Okay." I say. Couldn't do any harm to humor him I guess. As long as he doesn't go around calling himself Captain Underpants I can deal with it.

"Yeah?" He looks way too excited for me to feel bad about playing along for much longer. "And your… well I can't tell you who he is, but I'm supposed to look out for you, just in case, y'know, but I don't have any superpowers, so I can't help much if you get into too much trouble, so maybe don't start fights in dark alleys, huh?"

"That wasn't a fight." I say, and there's someone in the parking lot that catches my attention. He's old, and wearing a suit that looks fancy even amongst all of the other people walking around here.

The old guy's loaded down with grocery bags, as he walks, and I take about a second to wonder b why he didn't just use a trolley to get them to his car. That second passes very quickly when I get the feeling that that guy should 'not' be stuck carrying so many groceries on his own.

I mean what the fuck?

I run sprint towards him, waving as I approach. God I hope he doesn't think I'm going to try and mug him.

"Heeeey old guy." I try to sound casual as I come to a stop besides him and his face pales like his seen a ghost… or an evil ghost doll. I quickly scan the area just to make sure Annabel hasn't tried anything and turn back to the man with the politest fucking smile you've ever seen in your life. "You want some help getting stuff to your car, cause I can carry the shit outta those bags if you want me to."

I catches up to me real quick just how awkward I've made the situation, right around the time Eddie catches up to me too.

"Jason!" He's out of breath and leaning against me to keep himself upright, but at least his appearance has broken old guy out of whatever trance he was in. "Oh, hey Mister Pennyworth." Eddie breathes.

"Mister Bloomberg." Pennyworth? That's his name, sounds a little close to Pennywise for my tastes but hey, I guess it's not like he chose his name himself. He looks at me and his mustache is twitching, I really hope he's not going to have a heart attack or something. "Master Jason." There's a somber quality to his voice and he holds the bags out to us. "Some help would be appreciated, yes."

His car is parked stupidly far from the store, and again, what asshole's fault was it that Pennyworth was carrying them their alone?

Nice car though, very nice. Old, but in a classy way with a gleaming dark green paint job and rims that would go for thousands, even the tires were…

He clicks open the boot and we layer the bags gently inside. It's mostly food, lost of food, lost of it hotdogs, buns and ice-cream. I don't give myself enough chance to look at the contents before I stash the one bag of lavender scented cleaning supplies on the other end with the tissue paper between to separate them.

"You having a party or something?" I asked, taking another bag off Eddies hands.

The man looks sad for a second, but composes himself really fast. "I'm afraid not sir. The boy these were intended for will not be returning for quite some time by the looks of things."

"Well he's an ass." I say shutting the boot and rubbing my sore hands against the soft fabric of his blazer. "He go to my school? Cause I can fuck him up if you want." I pound a fist into my palm.

"Jason." Eddie hissed, smiling apologetically at the man.

"Oh, yeah, the swearing, sorry." I turn away, scratching the back of my neck.

"It's quite alright." He rests a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. "Though I hope you'll have improved your language in future young man."

"Yeah…" I say, knowing that the probability of that is every close to zero.

He smiles like he knows exactly what I'm thinking, and his eyes go all watery. "Well them. My thanks for helping an old man with a difficult task." He says as he pulls something out of his pocket.

"No problem Alfred." I say. "You know, I'd never mind helping you out."

The smile turns more genuine, but his eyes are even more watery, as he presses something into both my and Eddie's hands, then gets into his car. "I hope you'll use that to get yourself something healthy to eat for once."

"Careful on the road, kay?" I call.

He waves as he passes by, but it almost looks like he's got a handkerchief pressed against his eyes.

"Jason." Eddie tares my attention away before I can get a better look. He hold a paper up near my face. "Look."

Money…

I look down at what the man had given me. "A healthy snack, huh?" I study the note.

"Oh yeah." Eddies frowning at his. "I'm still kinda full from breakfast, but Alfred's scary so I guess we should."

"Waffles." I turn sharply on my heel and make towards the store. For once the universe hasn't screwed me over.

I'm a little guilty when I see the whole wheat sandwiches near the waffle stand but… what Alfred doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

Eddie doesn't look convinced, but it's not like a forced him to buy the waffles instead.

.

.

.

I've just woken up from the weirdest nightmare I've ever had in my life when I hear it, the rustling and bumping through the room that signals my stalker has returned. I'm too tired to worry about him going through my sock drawer or whatever, so I shift to face the window between out beds and try to go back to sleep.

Kind of hard when he really is making a lot of noise, a lot of noise when I really want to get some damn sleep before I have to deal with the assholes in my class tomorrow. It has to stop eventually, he's probably just changing into his PJ's or something.

I've started drifting off again when the window slides open and so do my eyes. Tim's leaning over the edge, something flapping around his neck and it looks like he's about to jump.

"Oh God!" I've leaped out of bed and have my arms wrapped around his chest faster than I can remember moving in my life. "Tim, what the fuck!" I drag him away from the window and barely make it to my bed before I fall down, practically holding him on my lap.

"Jason?" For once there an emotion that's not bliss in his voice ad he looks up to me, but all I'm seeing is something swinging back and forth, back and forth.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask, forcefully turning his face to look at me. He looks confused, but that's about it, no tears or desperation. "You don't just jump out of windows in the middle of the night you freak! Or during the day either. Fuck." I rest my head against my palm.

"You jump out of windows all the time." He hasn't made any attempts to move away from me, so I let him go and shift myself.

"I'm not…" I take him on, sitting on the edge of my bed in a very familiar red, gold and green suit. "What are you wearing?"

"Uh, cosplay?" his hands tighten on his lap, tighten around the domino mask he'd gripping.

"Cos…" My voice stops working and a take the mask out of his hands. "You want to go out, at night, in a Robin costume, in ' _this_ ' city?" The fuck is wrong with this kid. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm, uh, a really big fan?"

"Get into bed Tim, there's that geometry test tomorrow, and you suck at geometry." I start looking around the room for the pajamas he usually had thrown in a corner.

"You know what I'm bad at…" He whispers, hands doing that shaky thing. "But I have to go Jason, there's a thing."

"You can eat lunch with me tomorrow if you get into bed right now." I toss a bundle of clothes him way."

"But Batman." He's clutching the clothes to his chest, clearly torn.

"Fuck Batman." His suit is really detailed, really good quality, I don't want to think about it, don't want to think about the pains in my chest or the nightmares I know I'm going to be having if I manage sleep tonight.

"Yeah okay Jason." He gets up and finally heads off to get changed.

I get back into bed, but don't go to sleep until I hear the door click shut and the rustling of his covers when he climbs under them.

My eyes close, but I don't get any sleep that night. Fuck, I suck at geometry too.


	7. Plans and a lack thereof

The cafeteria is loud, filled with people, kids and teachers and idiot teenagers like me, all deeply embroiled in their chit chatting like the little chit chatters they are. About schoolwork and video games and sports and whatever the hell else these people are always talking about. It's normal, they're all normal, behaving as though today is just as normal as yesterday and the day before. Well, okay it id as normal as yesterday and the day before. Yet here I am, once again regretting every single life choice I ever made, trying to pick out the point where I went wrong.

I'm betting this is because of that chicken; guys like me shouldn't have pets. I knew I was too busy to take care of him, but he was so lost and alone and about to have his head chopped off at the back of that Italian place. You know they say chickens runs around even without their heads right? I've never seen it, but I'll bet that's terrifying. So, I swooped down and saved the thing, and took him home.

Named him Cluckers, Cluckers Supreme, and a week or so later he ran off. I went to find him but got sidetracked and then I wondered past that dumpster and then things were fuzzy for a while. By the time I got back Cluckers had probably been someone's dinner already.

This is his revenge, everything that's happening right now? I'll bet it's the doing of his feathery little claws avenging himself for my terrible pet ownership skills. I've had the whole period of what should have been a computer class to think about it. Bet his ghost is just…

"What are you doing?"

"Ah, fuck!" I jump away from the voice and spin around almost instantly to shove my finger in his face. "What the fuck Eddie? Don't creep up on a guy; can't you see I'm trying to concentrate here?" I press a hand against the heart that's beating way too fast in my chest. If I could go one damn day without being in danger of a heart attack, it would probably be the best day of my life at this point I fucking swear.

He peers over my shoulder, past the plant I'm camouflaging myself behind – hey, the uniforms are green, the plant is green, it works. "Concentrating on muttering about chickens?" He squints at the students who are now watching as they pass. Covers past blown here. "I think its mac and cheese for lunch today."

"No, on that." I place my hands on his cheeks from behind and angle his face at the table where Tim is waiting with some blonde kid. "The enemy."

"Tim?" Eddies cocks his head to the side, whacking me in the face with his longish red hair. I release his face immediately to back up and free myself from the strands, slapping at my mouth to make sure I get them all out. You know what supervillian would really suck? One that chokes you in hair, thing would fucking unstoppable. "Isn't he like, your brother or something?"

Doesn't ' _that'_ lovely thought just send a chill down my spine; I shake it off and peer around the other side of the plant. "No, he's just my roommate. My stupid, stalkerish, homework thieving roommate." I huff watch him look around the room, pulling back a little when I swear he sees me. "Told him I'd sit with him today."

"Yeah, hey wait, today outside of chem didn't you toss your homework at him and yell 'feed you monster?'" Eddie frowns at me, he's not even in my chem class, how did he…?

"First, that's chem, I know all I know how to blow shit up, don't gotta know about ' _bonds_ '." I crossed my arms and resisted the impulse to roll my eyes at him. "And second, I had to give him something!"

Eddie ducks under my flailing arms. "So why not the book report, you said you hate those."

"Stop telling me what I said, I know what I said." So what if I wound up reading the dumbass book and wanted to write the report? It was just cause it was easy, not cause I'm some nerd that thought it'd be fun. The first chapter sucked me in, like a black hole that wouldn't let me out. I run a hand through my hair and let out a long, drawn out sigh, hoping that perhaps the universe will take note and free me from the consequences of my stupid actions, bit nope, all it gets me is another weird look from Eddie. Guy pretends to be a superhero – ex-superhero, whatever – he doesn't get to pretend ' _I'm_ ' the weird one here.

Guess it's time for me to man up, and face this like a man. I said I would sit with the little freak and I ' _will_ ' creep factor be damned. I shore myself up for one more second, then after a deep breath and a squaring of my shoulders, I start my march from behind the plant to my inevitable…

"Eddie?" I look behind me when I notice he's not coming with me, just standing by the plant. "You're abandoning me?" I accuse. "You said we were friends. I gave you half of my chips this morning." And I was beyond fucking hungry this morning, got up late and only had time to eat one bowl of oatmeal before class and that dammed geometry test. I better not have failed that cause I swear someone will suffer. Most likely me, I'm fucking hungry ' _now',_ see, it's already started.

"You hate the tomato flavor." He just pokes his head through the leaves for a second before he pulls himself back into hiding.

"I would have eaten them anyway."

"I don't think Tim wants me there." He deflates a little when he says it.

I look over my shoulder at where my stalkers sitting, looks like he noticed me already, he whispers something excitedly to the kid next to him, then waves at me with so much enthusiasm I'd swear he's going to spontaneously combust. My wave back on the lower end of the enthusiasm scale, but it somehow amps up his even more.

"Yeah well I don't want Tim there." I lean over the top of the plant to look pleadingly at Eddie. "Come on, don't leave to deal with this alone, I swear that kid's possessed by a demon doll."

He smiles, at that like he thinks I'm kidding. I'm not kidding. Okay, maybe I'm a little kidding, but we all know it could be true. Still he's real hesitant about dropping into the seat next to me with his lunch tray. It's a bunch of vegetables in mac and cheese with a scoop of jello that wobbles with every step I take, I'm kind of worried it's going to knock over the carton of milk – haven't checked the flavor yet. I don't know what it's going to taste like, but I'm starving and the lunches here have yet to disappoint me.

Tim's happy enough at least, he holds out his arms, presenting the guy sitting next to him. He presents the kid, fucking presents, with a wide sweep of his arm and a monologue about how long he's known him and some other bullshit I don't really pay attention to, as Sebastian Ives – Ives – with a nervous smile that I don't know what I'm supposed to do with.

I don't have to introduce myself, and that's how these kinds of things are supposed to go right? So instead, I introduce Eddie as… Eddie. That's all I got, don't know hardly nothing bout the guy, cut me a break okay. He already knows Tim though, so there's that.

There, I've had enough peopleness for today, aside from responding to just the questions they send directly my way I'm just gonna lean back in my chair and give my food the focus it deserves. If I time it right, I can finish this, and then get seconds, and by the time I'm done with that, lunch will be over and I can go back to avoiding my little stalker again like a normal person.

That a small part of Tim's stalkery glee's shifted to Eddie does make it a little easier I guess.

Oh hey, the milk's strawberry flavored.

O

O

O

"Name?"

"Jason Todd."

"Jason…" The doctor waves her hand in a motion for me to carry on.

"Jason Peter Todd?" I pull my eyes from the colorful poster about hepatitis. Things so bright you'da though it was a flyer for a fucking candy store. I got no clue who designed that thing, but they gotta hire someone else and fast. I could do it; I could make a scary ass poster.

"Age?"

"Er…"I think back to the forms for my school admissions, shoulda paid more attention to those. "I wanna say seventeen?" I try. The doctor, a weirdly familiar old lady who's scribbling the things I say down on a spiral notepad that's patterned in flowers. I don't exactly feel seventeen, but I mean, what does make you feels an age? Maybe I feel two, or… I dunno.

"Birthday?"

Fuck, yeah, really shoulda paid attention to those forms. I guess this wrong and I'll bet I'm in for some trouble. Like identity theft or something, I can tell her it was the cop's fault right? How was I supposed to know if I wasn't who the school thought I was? I didn't write those things, and cops don't get into trouble for that crap, I mean, I could always just make a break for it, but I don't want to leave the school. And if I did, how would I get back to Bludhaven without any money? My apartments probably someone else's apartment by now, and I got that place hella cheap. Fuck those asshats I pissed off are probably…

"Jason." Her fingers snap right in front of my face and I flinch back, almost fall off the narrow bed, but McCreepy is behind me in a second. He catches me by my shoulders and keeps me off the ground, the reflexive elbow I shoot back to get him in the solar plexus doesn't hit, because of course he had to be a freaky super cop on top of being just plain freaky.

"It's August sixteenth Leslie." He says as he sets me right of the bed and ruffles my hair. "Hey it's almost your birthday Littlewing." He bends over so his grin is level with my face and doesn't remove the hand.

The best retort I can come up with under such short notice is ' _no, it's almost '_ your _' birthday'_. Sure you can understand why I don't say that. I just bat his stupid hand away from my fucking head and scoot away from him.

The Doc's annoyed with him too if the scowl she gives him is any indication. I decide I like her, guess I should try and focus more on this stupid checkup.

"Any previous medical emergencies 'Jason'." She emphasizes my name with a strikethrough in her notepad and a warning look at McCreepy. I guess I look a little uncomfortable because she directs that scowl at me too, and well, she's got the cops right and they can find these things out if I lie, don't want her to think I'm some dumbass for this, but like, lying would feel weird here. "You need to tell me in as much detail as you can. I promise it won't leave this room." She says this time with a smile. It's a fake doctor smile, though, the kind they give all their patients right before they knock them out and take their fucking organs.

I watch her for a while, suspicion blooming in my chest. That can't be what this is about right? I mean, I did wake up at McCreepy's with my side stitched up. But those were just bullet holes, I know, I got the little round scars on me still. They couldn't have pulled my kidneys outta their piece by piece like they pulled out mummies' brains through their noses, right?

With a wince of sympathy for ' _those_ ' dead guys, I rub at my own nose. Don't think McCreepy's even creepy enough for that, but I've been wrong before, plenty of times. Guess I should tell the Doc about the arrow thing after all. They won't want dumbasses brains, right?

"There was this one time, I was walking down the street and there was this guy in a trashcan. And like, you can get hepatitis from laying in trashcan's right?" I jerk my thumb at the medical poster from candyland that I'd been reading until earlier; show her that I did have a good reason for not paying all my attention to her earlier. She nods once, and I nod back. Her mouth does a funny thing that I don't think about too hard. "So, I pull him out, right, cause, I'm not gonna just leave him there…"

"Why were you looking in trashcans?" McCreepy asks and I wave him off with a copy of Doc's scowl,

"He was making a noise. So I pull him out right, then I can't leave him in an alley, and he's bleeding right, so I'm gonna try and wake him up, but he wakes himself up, and then these other guys show up, and like, I figure he's one of those guys that dress up to shoot supervillains, so…" Actually, I don't think that's the kind of detail she meant. They don't need to know the whole story. "I uh, got an arrow in my ass cheek and got surgery to get it out, but uh, yeah, I pretty fucking doped up on pain meds an crap so I dunno what happened really."

"It wasn't a red head, was it?" The cop asks me, his face gone stony and good lord that's a scary expression on him. Damn, I'm kinda missing the smileyness and it's only been gone a couple seconds now. I nod dumbly and try not to be too obvious about moving shifting further away from him.

"Don't worry, we can probably just find the rest in the reports." She scribbles something down on her notepad them slams it shut. I kinda wonder what those records say.

Weird to think the hospitals and shit might know more about me than I do. McCreepy didn't take too long to learn all about me, and he's just a cop, what could someone more important get? More than just my middle name, they can probably find where I was born and what school I went to and what I had for lunch most at that school. I don't know any of that stuff. Does McCreepy already know? Would he tell me if I asked, or would he just think I was the freak for not knowing in the first place?

Did he like, tell my parents when he put me in this school? Do I even have any, and like a sister or something too? They'd know where I am now then, and unless it's some intense witness protection stuff, they coulda come to find me. No one's come.

"Hey there, you okay?" The cops crouched in front of me, his hand pressed against my head like he's checking me more a fever or something, this worried look on his face, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel a little weird in a way that was too nice to not make me pretty damn uncomfortable. So I bat his hand away again and duck my head around him to make eye contact with the Doc.

"That all or you gonna ask about my underwear?"

"Just one more thing." She says, hands folded in front of her and that doctor smile in place again. "You're caught up on all your shots, aren't you?" Fuck. "They're mandatory according to Brentwood's regulations."

Double fuck.

O

O

O

I didn't cry, I'm seventeen years old and I didn't cry when I got my fucking shots, as long as stupid doctor-patient confidentiality stays in place, and McCreepy keeps his damned mouth shut, that's all anyone will ever know about it.

Needles are so fucking creepy, there's like, zero way of knowing what crap's really in there and what if it kills me or something worse? My life's fucking weird lately, but I don't wanna die with a needle sticking out of my arm, or like, die at all thank you very fucking much.

Still trying to decide if this ice cream is worth all of that damned hassle. So far, I've only finished the vanilla seeded part of the swirl, just started in the double chocolate. McCreepy's got a plain vanilla, woulda thought he'd be less boring, but I'm not gonna say anything, what if he gets some weird flavor and implodes from all the weirdness and takes the whole world with him. We got a flying around in red underwear, who's to say weirdness implosions can't happen too?

I am sitting in a cutesy ice cream place with the creepiest cop in the history of cops after all. ' _This_ ' is the kind of place that hepatitis poster shoulda come from, but then they'd sell hepatitis flavored ice cream and I'm sure ' _that'd_ ' sell really fucking well.

"So, got any ideas what you want for your birthday Littlewing?" He asks, resting his cheek on his hand across the table from me. "Someone you wanna see maybe, a party place?"

"My sanity." I mumble and turn away to look out the window. Not it's not enough I got a real life stalker; I think I'm seeing raggedy black fabric following me around too. McCreepy's laughing, and I kinda want to throw my ice cream at him just so he shut up, but I don't know when I'll get more ice cream, and I haven't even started on the strawberry blast yet, so that'd be a bad idea.

"Aw come on, I know this is all real overwhelming, but we're working things out okay, you just have to sit tight a little while longer and everything will be fine." He reaches over to ruffle my hair again, this time I give him a couple seconds before I knock his hand away.

What exactly is working stuff out supposed to mean, like, locking up the assholes who were after me in Bludhaven? Do I go back to Bludhaven after that? I wonder if I get into trouble with the mobs here, if that'll get me more time. The school pays for everything, so if I get a job I can save all the money and never have to go back. Maybe I can ' _become_ ' the mob boss, then they can't come after me anyway. I can do that, all I gotta do's be scary and I can be real scary, like a scareasauraus-rex type scary.

Or like, a supervillian, gangs crap their pants for supervillains, but then I'd have to wear a colorblind costume and fight a supervillain, and those punches look like they 'hurt' on TV. I once saw a guy get punched ' _through_ ' a building. Not off, or into or across the halls, but right in one side and out the other, in ' _one_ ' hit. His face's gotta be real fucked up after that.

I rub a hand over mine, trying to imagine what that must feel like. Maybe I can make a deal with a less fighty superhero, I pull of the crimes without hurting any normal people and when I get taken in I only get a little bit hit. It'd work out, right? But I gotta talk to one first and how exactly do I get a superhero's attention?

Something beeps and I look up at the cop who's pulling something out of his pocket with an apologetic smile. "Gotta take thing real quick Littlewing, you just sit tight for a couple minutes okay?"

I nod, long as he pays for the ice cream he can do whatever the else fuck he wants, I got more important things on my mind. Only superhero I ever met was that Nightwing guy over in Bludhaven, and for that, I had to save a cop and get shot.

Right now I got enough cop problems thank you universe, and getting shot sucks balls. I need something easier, less painful. If I'm gonna spend my career getting beat on and escaping from jail, I'd rather be in as little pain as I can while it lasts.

Okay wait, I kinda met Robin too in when he showed up at my apartment, and my creepy little stalker says he knows Robin, and Robin knows Batman, and Batman doesn't kill people. Job security right there. That's perfect, now all I have to do is find a trunk and some really soft pillows, and food in case they take their time. Don't want Tim to hate me after, maybe I can stage it as a sleepover, he'd fall for…

"Hey I gotta stop by the GCPD to get something for my department in Haven, you want I can get you a look at the batsignal." McCreepy pops into my field of vision again and I scream, the ice cream flying from my hands right at him.

"Whoa." He bends over like he crawled out of the fucking matrix; I shit you not, and just grabs the cone like it's nothing. "You got some reflexes there huh?" He hands it back to me and my hands are too numb to do anything but close around it mechanically. "So, you wanna tag along?"

"The batsignal calls Batman." I say, looking past him and bringing my ice cream to my lips, the sweetness does a little at least to clear my head. Maybe McCreepy's really a ninja supervillain in disguise. Everyone in Bludhaven is some kind of criminal and that'd make ' _so_ ' much sense. He's way too nice for a cop, maybe he figured I was gonna wind up trying out the same thing, maybe he's a mind reader that would explain way better how he knows all this stuff about me.

"Yeah, only works at night though." He gestures over to the car we drove here. "Come on, it'll be fun.

"Right." I get up with my ice cream and let him lead me out. A good look at the building will make it easy to get to the batsignal. If I can figure out a way to get it on at night long enough for him to come, I won't need to kidnap the stalker at all. And that's great cause I'd rather not make him think it's some kind of game and have him kidnap me back.

Being kidnapped would suck.


	8. Supervillainy is hard

Turns out being a supervillain, like everything in my damned life, is maybe a little more complicated than I thought it would be and I've decided its supervillain or bust. Crimelords die too much, by assassination, ambitions underlings and, ironically, by supervillain, but I think the biggest crimelord in Gotham _'is'_ a supervillain, I say I think because now I've gotta ask myself; where is the line between supervillain and crimelord exactly. It would be pretty fucking shitty if I showed up on the scene thinking I'm one and turning out to be the other.

I've worked out a plan, just a rough draft so far and I think it's a good idea to get it looked over before I go any further with it. That's where Eddie comes in; he's a little obsessed with the whole concept, so I bet he's got a better idea of this kind of thing than I do. He's watched so many movies I bet he's picked up a lot more about these kinds of things that a lot of people.

"Gain loyalty by doing something unspeakable to the lieutenants?" Eddie frowns quizzically at the back of the history pop quiz questionnaire where scribbled out the rough draft of my master plan in last period. Hey, I had a lot of studying to do before classes and haven't had a lot of time to work on it yet. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"'F I spoke about it, it wouldn't be unspeakable, Eddie." The cafeteria is full as it always is at suppertime, but there's still a kind of emptiness, something I can't exactly place and it's making me a little nervous. And it smells like meat, a lot of meat, makes it kind of hard to think, damnit this line isn't moving fast enough. I'm going to starve to death at this rate, starve when food is just a few feet ahead of me.

He hums and leans against the wall were queuing against, as his eyes continue to scan my plan. "Sounds like more of a crimelord thing. Sides, ya can't just decide you wanna be a supervillain one day, unless you're real careful you're just gonna be a weirdo in a suit, like Condiment King." His face scrunches up into something that could be either disgust or pity. Probably something in between. "It takes more than a plan Jason."

And I got no idea who that is, but I'm almost compelled to pull the same expression and what I do know is that becoming something similar to this Condiment King would be a truly crappy ending to the very short tale that had been my life.

"It's a rough draft." I snatch my precious plan from him and stuff it into my pocket as we moved forward. I worked hard on it for a whole ten minutes; it didn't deserve to be so hastily discarded when it was still so young. Rows of dinner plates are waiting neatly in a row, waiting for me to devour them all. Roast beef with potatoes and vegetables and the deserts are stacked somewhere in the back, but I can smell them too, calling to me. How would I function if I had to go back to expired chinese leftovers? "Well then what do _'you'_ think it takes to make a supervillain?"

"I dunno." He brushes his longish hair out of his face and props a hand against his chin, I think his hair might actually be against dress code, but he's been here a while so maybe not. Maybe it's just that no one's noticed it yet. Should I tell him? It would suck if he got expelled. "Most of the supervillains I know do it because they really hate a superhero or they're crazy _'and'_ they hate a superhero and really, really like them, y'know like Mister Luthor and Superman."

"Hnnn." I don't like where this conversation is going, some things about that guy's obsession with Superman are just too weird, and my life is weird enough, I don't need myself attracting more of it. "Can you just call someone a supervillain like that? Can't that jackass sue?" The only thing I can be sued for right now is that strawberry mousse, and if that ever happened, I think I might just die. It's so, so close, just three more people ahead of us.

"Nah, it's like him being bald and not paying child support, everyone knows about it." Now he's watching the food too. "Besides he's too broke right now to get a lawyer."

However that happened, I have some more important things on my mind than Lex Luthor's ability to pay his child support. "Anyway, I don't really hate any superheroes." Only one's I ever met were Nightwing, Robin and Batgirl, and sure Nightwing gave to McCreepy, but that turned out okay, so I can't exactly hate the guy. "Or love them." He _'did'_ give to McCreepy after all. "Kinda neutral of the whole damn superhero thing to be honest."

"Some of them just have these really tragic pasts that they blame the world for, like Uncle Daniel's brother Jack, but he kinda sold out his family to a demon, so…" Eddie blinks his eyes rapidly and takes the step forward that puts him next in line. "Some of them just stop at being really, really traumatized and mixing weird chemicals really."

"I can mix the fuck outta weird, but I don't remember being traumatized less ya count being kidnapped to school." Ouch, and trying fucking hurts, it takes shaking my head and finally being within reach of my dinner to make the stabbing pain go away. Tragic right now would be tripping and loosing this tray. I watch closely as the cafeteria lady sets a plate of dinner, a bowl of desert and a juice box in their places. Must find table, must eat.

"Heard some people said you coulda been a supervillain, but that was only after… you know. Pass me a spoon." He makes grabby hands past me and the stacks of eating utensils we pass further down the line. "Don't worry, I bet you'll remember something traumatizing eventually."

"Why would I purposely try to remember something so traumatizing it turns me into a supervillain?" I feel a weird shudder go through me at the thought, then we sit down and _'food'_ so I'm too busy getting it into my mouth to say a lot more on the subject. It's like heaven died and got chopped into a pan to be slow roasted to perfection and covered in sauce from some other heaven analogous place. Maybe Valhalla, I hear food's a big deal there.

"Wait, you're being serious right now?"Eddie narrows his eyes at me the way he does at his homework, and when I shrug, rolls them skyward and starts mixing sauce into his potatoes. "Why do you even _'want'_ to be a supervillain?"

"Two words Eddie." I hold up two fingers and tap them to count out my next words. "Job. Security." I shred some meat and spear it on my fork, his is the best food ever, wait, not the best, the best was that plate of bacon McCreepy fed me. This is good but that was a whole plate of _'bacon'._ "You ever hear of supervillain getting _'fired'_?" I rip my fork across the plate to break apart more meat, there really is something missing, some sense of unease that by its absence makes me more uneasy or some shit like that. "Nope, never, you what supervillains get? _'Life sentences'. 'Life'_ Eddie."

"Can't you just be superhero instead?" He points his fork at me and talks about a mouthful of beef. "That's a life sentence too, once a Titan always a Titan?"

"I dunno, those guys die a lot." Like a whole fucking lot, think I saw something like that on the news, someone that looked a lot like Wonder Woman, changed the channel way too soon to know for sure, someone way too familiar. Thinking about its making me feel a little queasy now so I stop and get back to my food. "And anyway, don't ya need superpowers for that?"

"Not always. All I had was the suit, but it's kinda in pieces right now and it's so hard to find the parts to fix it." Yeah, from his time as an actual superhero. I don't scoff or shake my head or anything like that, but I'm not so sure playing along is the best idea anymore. Not so sure this conversation was the best idea, maybe I should shelve the whole thing, at least for now.

"Maybe a part time job is a better idea for now." I sigh and tilt my chair back to balance on its back legs, holding my tray against my chest to expedite the plate to mouth travel of the food. I need to hurry if I want seconds. "Why does life have to be so fucking complicated?" I breathe the words out and draw a hand across my eyes, when I move it I remember exactly what I'd forgotten was missing from the cafeteria.

It's appeared out of nowhere, standing in front of me, wide blue eyes set in a ghostly pale face hovering above mine. "Hi Jason."

"Fuck!" I rear away from him, the front legs of my chair slamming back to the ground and I barely manage to protect my food from the cold hard ground that didn't deserve it nearly as much as I did. "Why?!"

Tim just grins and slides into a seat next to me, Ives slotting in across from him, he looks at me like I'm the weird one.

"Hello Timothy." I say and straighten my tie, because I'm polite and how was he supposed to know I meant for us all eating together to be a onetime thing? I can't say it _'now',_ now it's too late.

"You know my name." He whispers gleefully, his little stalker hands balling to fists besides his plate.

"Unfortunately." I shove a bite of potatoes into my mouth.

O

O

O

Wayne Incorporated. One of the biggest companies in the country, it deals in everything from space exploration to record labels to having a huge headquarters filled with suits who are very good at really creeping me the fuck out. I got the first things from the pamphlet they handed out when we got off the bus and the last one from personal experience.

School field trip the teachers said, only recently offered and Mister Wayne didn't allow it often so we all have to make the most of the opportunity. I don't know what prompts a billionaire to suddenly want a bunch of highschoolers in his very professional workspace, but if most of these losers are going to be working in places like this, they're going to need to see what professionalism looks like.

Not me though, thank god. Only way I'd ever get a job at a place like this is as a janitor, and seeing as how that would probably have me jumping from the damned roof by the time I'm thirty, I don't feel much remorse at the frustrated huffs out guide sends in my direction. They're not grading us on this and I'm pretty sure the sections on the pamphlet about the new weekend internship program don't apply to me. That's why it's kinda freaking me out whenever the guide makes eye contact with me as she speaks.

So I pay even less attention, as little attention as humanly possible until I can get out of here and back to my regularly scheduled boring ass classes.

It's a terrible idea, but hey, hindsight is twenty/twenty.

I don't notice the grinning woman that's sidling on closer until she's right on top of me. Experience with my stalker _'just'_ keeps me from screaming when she pops up in my field of vision when I turn a corner the rest of the group has just turned down.

"So are you having fun here, you're so much bigger than the little boy that used to come here. These your favorites, right?" Now I know I should call the guide back or at least run to catch up with the rest of them, safety in numbers and all that, but she has a bag of gummy bears, _'sour'_ gummy bears.

"I love those gummy bears." God I am such an idiot, how am I still alive?

And she grins even wider. "Oh your father's so glad to have you here, everyone can tell. He worked so hard to set up the internship program this fast, we're sure it's just an excuse to have you here." Then she pats my head and leaves.

And leaves the gummy bears with me! This field trip has just proved worth it.

I catch up to the group and this time I actually try to keep close to them, just in case. But the tour drags on and I feel like I know everything they're saying. It's a building, people type at desks in it, unless they let us into R and D it's not going to get interesting and R and D is restricted, so we won't be let in. The paintings of holes lining the walls in one hall look so realistic it's like I can stick my hand right through them and into the landscapes beyond, I actually pat one just to be sure. Pretty sure these weren't here before.

So I fall behind again.

When someone comes up behind me this time I think it's just the guide or security here to herd me back to the ' _adult supervision'_.

"What are you doing here?" The deep voice doesn't so much to abate that suspicion, but what he says next does. "The ones in R and D are better; I'm almost scared to walk over them sometimes. Don't think the tour group is covering that area, but you'll probably see them on your own later, huh?"

I narrow my eyes at him, scrutinizing as I put the remainder of my gummy bears into my pocket, juuuust in case. He's security, at least he _'looks'_ like security, has the uniform, but he doesn't look as old as the others I've seen so far, walking round the building. "Maybe you will, guy this rich's gotta have a portal to hell somewhere, right?" I say it just to see how he'll react.

He looks at me, blinks once, and then he _'laughs'_ and then he pats my head. "Well you'll see them when you take your internship, huh?" And he leaves me there.

What the fuck is going on here? It's probably just the uniform; they think all the kids here are going to get in to the internship. Maybe I just look the part? Maybe my gummy bears were drugged. I don't feel much different than usual, but what would be the point if they drugged me with something I'll notice right away? Maybe I passed out when I ate the last one and everything since has just been a delusional dream. Maybe I'm dead already. An office building feels like a good setting for purgatory seeing as that's how it's workers feel.

I find my way back to the group fast as my feet can carry me. They've stopped by a coffee machine, but the only thing students are allowed to get out of it is the hot chocolate. They don't look dead, or near dead. The guide shoots me an exasperated frown, but she doesn't say anything about my wondering off. The hot chocolate is pretty good, something tugs at my mind, gives me the opinion that I've had better, but I don't remember when so I ignore it.

I stick with the group this time; don't let the green blazers of my fellow, not-so-fellow classmates leave my line of sight. I'm like a penguin keeping close to the heard, safety in damned numbers. I don't wonder off, I mostly pay attention to the guide. Nothing I do is any different from the rest of them, and still I get singled out.

It's my group's turn in the elevator, going up to listen to a speech by the Master of this whole crazy city, Bruce Wayne when a woman, an intern herself it looks like yells for us to stop the elevator. The guide does and she rushes to cram herself in with us, breathing heavily, patting down her pantsuit and eyeing the trays of coffee she's carrying.

She looks forward for all of two seconds, then stills like she saw a ghost. "Jason!" It's convincing enough that I whip my head around to make sure – this settles it, I'm not watching horror movies with Eddie _'anymore'_ – and I back against the wall, but her eyes settle on me.

The other eight students in the wide elevator laugh and it takes me a second to realize they're laughing at me, all of them, plus intern lady.

"It's Tiffany." She says, with a smile, patting her chest. "You remember me, right?" No, I do not. "Probably not, it was so long ago. Maybe my dad with put you on my team this weekend, unless Mister Wayne wants you somewhere else." The next chuckle she lets out is a little nervous this time and thankfully the elevator stops before anyone could have expected me to answer. Instead of patting my head like I'm expecting her to, she gives me a one armed hug before she steps out. She smells really nice. "See you then."

Then she's gone, and thank god for that because my face is so hot I think I just had an aneurism. The rest of the kids laugh at me again and I flip them off as soon as the guide turns her head. Some kids are going to wake up to some very unpleasant things in their shoes tomorrow.

That's three times now. I anyone asking the other students about that damned internship thing since we've gotten here, just me, and three times makes it a pattern. I've been bribed with candy, and now the girl in the elevator too with the nice perfume too? Security guy said it's in the R and D right? R and D that are restricted from the public, and slap everyone they allow in with airtight NDA agreements.

The realization strikes me like a crowbar; they're collecting interns for experiments. That's why they keep asking me, look like an easy target, don't I? Cause I keep wondering off, and I'm only at the school cause the cops put me there. A big company can bribe the cops. Did someone hear me and Eddie talking about superheroes? About Lex Luthor's lack of hair? He's probably friends with Wayne and now they want to take their joint vengeance.

Now I know I'm tossing around the idea of being a supervillain, but I _'don't'_ want my trauma to be 'experimented on in a creepy basement', no matter how cool the superpowers it gets me are.

The elevator makes one stop before we get to the top floor and Wayne's office. I tell the guide I need to go to the bathroom and hope she doesn't realize there aren't any on this floor before I slip off. Not giving them a chance to talk me into being a science experiment, not a chance in hell.

No one stops me when I find another series of elevators to take down to the ground floor, but some of those I pass smile and wave at me. I don't glare back like I want to, but I'm _'on'_ to them. No number of gummy bears will ever pay the price.

Before I get to the bottom of the building, it turns out I actually do need to go to the bathroom, and I have to take a detour around one of the busiest floors in the building to find one. I'm just stepping out, still shaking water off my hands when I spot another security guard, and oh, crap this one's _'huge'._

"God damnit." I mutter and ready myself to fight my way to the bottom, already planning my escape plan, but he shoots me one look and mutters something into a radio then walks right past me. He's out of my sight not long after and I continue on my way, but this time a use a service stairway, just in case.

I've almost reached my goal when one of the doors ahead of me slam open and I press myself against the wall, half expecting some armed force here to drag me to a basement of horrors. Instead, it's just Wayne, it's…

I watch him vanish around a turn and something in my chest falls, for a while I can't move.

It's Bruce…

I'm not thinking when I run down the stairs, desperate to get another look at him, but he's so far ahead of me I don't think I can catch up. My feet pound against the stairs and I keep going so fast I almost trip over my feet, just barely stop from braining myself against every new landing a just about fall down to. My heart is stuffed into my throat, suffocating me, and if my head were clearer, I'd think they released gas into the stairwell.

By the time I crash my way through the last door my legs are numb and my lungs are trying to claw their way out through my throat. The alley is clean, too fucking clean for this city, but I don't take the time to notice it, I keep running and there, across the road I can see him.

He's not facing my way, but I know it's him. "Bruce!" I call, still running, my visions a little blurry now and it must be raining because my cheeks are all wet.

He turns from the door he's just opened, shock plain on his face, the shock switches quickly to abject horror and that stops me dead in my tracks, the inertia almost making me trip, but I catch myself against a streetlight. Bruce's hand reaches towards me and his mouth opens, but before I get the chance to hear anything he says pain explodes at the back of my head.

The force of the blow knocks me to the ground and I get just second to see black mask of the fucker who did it before dark spots encroach on my vision and my body feels very light. Something picks me up and I feel a prick, then I don't feel anything.


	9. Gummy Bear War

When I wake up again, the world is moving, well, maybe not the world exactly, but certainly the bits of it I can feel. Maybe it's just me that's moving? Well my stomach definitely is. No gummy bears stay where you are, please, I'm gonna need your strength to deal with this bullshit.

There are voices coming from somewhere in front of me, but I can't hear very well past the blood rushing in my ears what I _'can'_ hear is some hick music that kind of makes me wish they'd bash my head in again, harder this time so I can be dead enough to never have to listen to it again.

Wait no, headache. Headache! Ouch, motherfucking ouch, this is the worst headache in the history of headaches, how did I not notice it before! Fuck no wonder I can't open my eyes. The gummy bears are making a valiant effort to make their Exodus from my stomach to the hard steel ground beneath me – truck, the world feels like it's moving because I'm in a truck, I can hear the loud humming of the engine. There's a _'tic'_ every few rotations, it needs some work, this is _'so'_ not the fucking time, what the hell am I THINKING.

Ouch, whatever it was, it helped with the headache; need to think of something else. The truck goes over a bump and I can't help the groan that slips from my lips when it makes my head knock against something.

"Awake now, eh, ya little bastard?" His voice is like oil, slimy and dark and when they light hits it just right it could probably be a rainbow; trying too hard. I'm too tired to judge.

"No 'm not." There's an acrid, burning taste at the back of my very dry mouth, a casualty of my war with the gummy bears. With my hands behind my back and my feet chained to _'something',_ I can't even turn by self to a more comfortable position. Whatever happened to honor amongst thieves huh? Wait, does this count as thieves, what are they stealing me from? Myself? Does that count? I don't know if it counts.

Despite my admittedly shoddy attempt at convincing the guy that no, I am not awake, his hand is balled into the front of my shirt – where's my blazer? Fuck it's probably dirty now, this shirts probably dirty, guy with his dirty fucking hands – and he yanks me up of the ground, which in turn makes the thing chained to my legs yank me uncomfortable _'to'_ the ground. No gummy bears! Stand down, don't come up, don't come up!

"The fuck did you just say you little punk?!" He's shaking me now and, shit, how much of that did I just say out loud? "All of it, you said all of it out loud and for your fucking information, I got hand sanitizer in my pocket!"

"Please stop shaking me!" My cheeks bulge out and I have to struggle with the gummy bears again. Deep breaths, deep breaths. It gets easier when he stops shaking me, doesn't put me down, but that's okay, this is actually nicer than the floor, and I think I finally have the strength to open up my eyes. Oh, shit that's an ugly mustache.

"You little…!" He draws his hand back and I brace myself, but before Ugly Stache can hit me there's someone grabbing hold of his fist and pulling me away.

"He's a kid man, gonna be hurtin bad real soon, no need ta make it worse.'" And this guy's real scrawny, nice suit, but he looks kinda like a life-sized sock puppet, y'know, really round head, no hair but a kind of peach fuzzy face, beady eyes.

"Can I have an aspirin?" I groan. I landed back on my arms and now feeling's rushing back to them and hey _'hurt'_ right along with my head. Hurting real bad later, ha! I'm hurting now.

"No!" Stache yells so loud it sends more spikes of pain flooding from my ears to my head. All I can do is try curling up tighter to try and cover my brain's source of audio input, prevent it from turning against me any further.

"Kay, jeez, why you gotta fucking yell." Eyes open has provided me with nothing but pain so far, so I shut them and curl up tighter, it puts more strain on my shoulders by quells the gummy bears, so it's worth it.

It's fine. This is fine; I can absolutely handle this juuust fine. Just gotta take a few minutes to get my sea legs all straightened out and figure out what the hell is going on here. Field trip, and Br… and I ran down the stairs after some rich guy I've never met like a fucking psychopath. They're locking me up in a mental home, and the one in Gotham's a real kennel of freaks. Superhero origin story here I come! The dry mouth feels unnecessary though. Maybe they'll give me some water?

"No."

No, they won't. Assholes.

"'F yer gonna kill me, least ya can do is give me a last meal." I carefully, carefully slit my eyes open; giving them plenty time to get accustomed to the little light here in the back of the truck. They're not from an asylum, asylum orderlies, 'specially for Arkham orderlies are never than scrawny, don't dress like thugs. Don't wrap people's legs up in chains and attach them to cinderblocks. Y'know who does that? Mobsters. Shit. "All 'm askin for's some water."

"All I'm asking for's your yap shut." Stache says, and I'd blow a raspberry at him in retaliation, really I would, but that'd put a strain on my head. I note he doesn't do anything to dispel the _'killing me'_ notion.

"How 'bout a deal, I'll be quiet while I drink the water." I even smile, all disarming like. I can get my knees under me after some shuffling, so at least now I'm kneeling before my captors instead of lying before them. Like this, I can still spit in their ugly ass faces if they lean in close enough.

"I got a better idea." Stache stomps over and picks me up again, this time Sock Puppet doesn't stop him from ramming his huge fist into my gut. It forces every atom of air outta my lungs and oh, there go the gummy bears. When he throws me back to the floor, I have a very hard time getting that air back. I don't want the gummy bears. Think there're still some in my pocket anyway.

Bastards are laughing, both of them now. Think they're real funny. See how they think 'f I get outta these chains and kick their asses, knock them off the truck with the fucking cinderblock. Doesn't matter, I'll get plenty of water when they dump me in the bay.

"So, Bludhaven, huh?" I lick my lips then force my vocal cords to get the words out and pull my knees under my again, my heads so fucking heavy I can't keep it from hanging between my shoulders. "How's the old place? Sun still shining, people still dancing." I gasp and manage to get my head high enough to peer at them through my hair, it's sweaty, needs a watch. "Has the teletubby invasion happened yet?" I shake my head mournfully, but the sob that goes along with it is kinda real, my head _'really'_ hurts okay. "I told ya they would come _'tried'_ to warn you."

"Uppity little prick, huh?" Sock Puppet says and toes the chains, he looks kinda like he wants to kick me, I really hope he doesn't kick me, was kinda stating to like him and everything. "Shoulda know you were a rich brat."

I shake my head and shrug. "Witness protection. T's a bad program." Really, there were so many security guards around that building, and I _'know'_ they're not incompetent, what the what? "Soooooo bad." I whisper that last part half under my breath. "Fun while it lasted."

Now who's gonna be Eddie's friend, who's Timothy gonna stalk? I'll never have ice cream with McCreepy again; maybe he'll find some other kid to lead to supervillainy. Maybe Tim'll stalk Eddie in my memory, let him join that damned club. Maybe, maybe.

"Man, so many foods I never got ta taste."'M tired, real tired, real thirsty. Just one fucking glass of water.

"Shoulda thought about that 'fore ya set that bendy freak on Blockbuster." Stache grinned at me. His teeth are weirdly pearly for someone with his profession, maybe fake? They don't look fake.

"I don't know who that is." Yes I do, and he's a piece of work that ugly fucktard, probably wants me killed _'in'_ Bludhaven, set an example or somethin'. Suck's if they get me to him, but if they don't it means I got a chance to kick em in the nuts – 'f I can find em that is – and make my dramatic disappearance into the night. Have to work on getting outta these chains first.

O

O

O

The truck comes to a stop barely an hour later. Stache lifts me, his hands under my armpits, and Sock Puppet holds on to the cinderblock. Least they're not making me walk. I don't wanna walk.

When my ears don't pick up the sounds of traffic and people cursing, I bring my head up look around. Grass, clumps of grass smattered around the rust colored sand, hope that's not red cause of all the people they killed out here, that would be kinda gross.

They carry me into an old, rickety wooden shed that, if the sparse flecks of paint are to be believed, had at one time been green, but it now mostly a sickly gray color. There's nothing else around us, for miles and miles, I can kinda see a shape that might be a city, if it is, it's still too far for me to make a run for it.

When we pass over the threshold, for the first real time since I woke up in that truck, I'm maybe a little panicked. Just a little. My heart rate is picking up and it's getting even harder to breath, everything feels ten times heavier.

I've decided I don't like rickety buildings in the middle of nowhere, no, I hate it, I need to be in the sun, where I can see the clouds, I need to _'not'_ be alone in here. They don't care, they toss me into the shack and the cinderblock they throw in after clips the side of my face. It's gonna bruise, and it's gonna bruise bad. I think there's a bomb, why do I think there's a bomb? I can't see one anywhere.

"Sure they said he's comin'?" Someone I haven't gotten the chance to see yet has shut the door, and my heart near stops when I hear it locked. "Thought he doesn't come out in the day."

"The fuck's goin on here?" Sock Puppet sounds worried, I don't know if that means something good for me or not."

"Boss said to wait, might need ta off 'im here, if we can't get im off us." New guy doesn't sound worried, and something inside me seizes up.

They keep talking, but I don't hear them, my eyes are scanning the room, looking for a weapon, something, but I can just barely see, it's so dark. The only things I have to work with are these damned chains and myself. No, no fucking way am I gonna die here, in this creepy fucking shack. I don't know why I'm having such a hard time convincing myself their isn't a bomb in here. Water's one thing, I've been kind of expecting that since I got out of Bludhaven, but this? No.

"No, no, no, no…" I repeat the word to myself and tug at the chains, they're tight and wrapped all around my wrists, can't slip outta them, even if I break my fingers. If I die here, I'm haunting those guys outside, and their kids, and their kids' kids. I'll have to check with whoever decides those things, but I'll go on for as long as they'll let me. There aren't any dolls around here for me to possess but by god I will do my best.

All I've got's the cinderblock. It's heavy, scraping against the chains. Strong. When I look through the paper-thin gaps in the boards that nailed over the places one, lone window I see that there's only one, lone guard in my field of vision. Don't know where the others went. Don't have time to think about it.

So, cinderblock. I scoot my way over to the block, and brush my mostly numb fingers against it. That's okay, if I can't feel them it means it'll hurt less if I mess up. Not that I think I'll mess up. Takes some work to find the edges of it and pick the block up high as I can.

When I slam it back down the block clips my ankle. Hurts like a bitch, and I decide Ima _'break'_ one of their ankles for this. Gonna break something from each of them, shove the fucking block down Stache's throat. Assholes all of them.

O

O

O

Next time they open the door to get a hold of their captive all they find are some droplets of fresh blood splattered around the floor.

"What d'ya do with him?!" The third guy, bout as big as Stache, angles his head around the place, looking for me, his eyes are wide and he's clutching a cellphone in his hands. Hope that's their boss; hope he dumps _'them'_ in Bludhaven harbor, chopped up into teensy tiny pieces.

"Kid?" Sock Puppet calls, actually cupping his hand over his mouth like he thinks I'm gonna hear it. "Got you some water."

LIES! His hands are empty. Stache is hanging around the door, I'm just waiting for him to come inside, to shut the door, and I watch gleefully as it slowly scrapes against the ground, taking the light with it. Now _'they're'_ the one's trapped in the dark.

The chains in my hands clink together when I shift my position in the rafters. Their heads jerk up towards me, towards where they think I am. I chuckle softly deep in my throat at what little I can see of their faces. Only one goes for a gun, I strike out with the chain and he doesn't have a gun anymore. Now _'I'_ have the gun, and Killer guy doesn't have kneecaps anymore, some loud fucking vocal cords though, I'll give him that one.

Sock Puppet and Stache make for the door as one and I leap down after them, wrap the chain around Sock Puppet's ankle. He's screaming when I drag him back in and Stache gapes after us, his tanned face gone almost as pale as the bleached wood of the shack. I find a point at Sock Puppet's throat and squeeze for the couple seconds it takes until he's out cold.

I scrape up the cinderblock before I go after Stache.

"Mister Ugly Mustache." I call, singsongy as I go out and after him, giving the black a little wiggle, the limp probably makes me look a little less intimidating, it turns my badass walk more of a zombie shuffle instead, but he still looks terrified. Good. "I got ya your last meal here." I chuckle again and he goes for his gun. It's too late.

I spring forward and knock the block against his chest, not hard enough to kill him, but a lot harder than he'd punched me – paid back by seven, motherfucker – and he goes down. I sit down on his chest, look him in the eyes while I raise the block up and prepare to shove it down his fucking throat.

"Jason!" Someone shouts everything just stops, my head whipping around for the source of the voice and Oh my god!

I don't scream, my vocal cords are so far from capable of making anything but some kind of choking noise it's not even funny. I do, however, rear back from the huge, hulking shape silhouetted against the setting sun before me. His cape flutters forwards reaching after me like some living eldritch horror after my soul.

Batman, and he looks like multiple people crapped all over his sugar coated Batflakes this morning.


	10. The Crusader's Cape

How, my hypothetical grandchildren in some hypothetical world where my stupid ass aint dead by the time I'm twenty will ask me, did you get away from the Goddamn Batman? I'd prefer to wind up a great uncle or something instead of having to do the _'parent'_ thing, I'd be _'so'_ bad at it, but that's beside the point. Anyway, they will ask me how I got away from the Goddamn Batman, and I'm going to tell him I was a badass. I took him down before he saw it coming.

I've decided this already, the whole story, down to the tiniest of details, but I'm sane enough to know that the reality is going to be much different. Batman looms in front of me for a couple seconds, his eyes, the white _'things'_ where his eyes should be looking down on me. Behind him, the batmobile, by God that's a gorgeous car, glossy finish, those rims. Buttery soft leather interior. No pine scents or those dumb perfume boxes. It probably smells like oil and leather and metal, like a car should. How do superheroes get all the luck?

Heavy cape billowing in the wind…

Oh right, Batman's still here, still _'looming.'_

"He did it." I point at Stache and cover the cider block with his hands, as I scramble black, by shoes kicking up the red sand. It's gonna stain my slacks, I know it, and it's back to the creepy laundry room of death for me.

"Jason…" Batman reaches one gauntleted hand to me, if those are gauntlets, I'll bet they're not; he's had them grafted to his skin. He's a creature that's ascended from the depths of a cave the ancient ones sealed a thousand years ago.

"It was horrifying, his whole jaw just," I spread my arms out. "It fucking _'unhinged'_ and he was gonna eat that whole thing." Emphatically, I jab my finger at him again. "' _Horrifying!"_

Predictably, Batman doesn't buy it; he barely spares Stache a glance. Behind me I hear the sobbing of the guy whose knees I shot out, wanna turn around and yell at him to shut up, he's gonna give me away. Stache is whimpering, trying to get behind Batman, away from me. Alrighty then, time for plan B.

Hello cinderblock my old friend, I've come to speak with you again. I dodge out of Batman's reach again, this time scooping up the block, it hurts my ankle, the way I have to turn to get it, and I wince. Batman thinks that's a moment of weakness, tries to make a grab for me again.

"Fie!" I toss the block at him, hard as I can, it hits his chest and I hear the _'oof'_ of air going out of him, and then, well then, I make for the car.

It's his fault, for leaving it out in the open like his, door unlocked, what does he think is gonna happen? I have to jump a little to get inside, this thing is big. The seats are just as soft as I imagined them. If I'd had more time I would have melted into them, wrapped my hands around the steering wheel and just become one with this glorious piece of engineering.

But I don't have time. Batman's coming after me almost as soon as I ditched him. Don't know why I think to press down on the ignition, car like this has to have _'something'_ to keep some rando loser from stealing it, but the engine roars to life. And when I say roars, I mean it ROARS, like I damned polar bear that's been fed on a diet of steroids since the womb. How did I not hear this thing pulling up here? The power of the engine shakes the whole car, sends that power thrumming all through my body. And the doors slide shut in Batman's stupid shocked face.

I don't bother with seatbelts, seatbelts are for the weak, just hit the gas and the off it goes, the force practically melding me into the seat. If the car was loud idling, now it's almost deafening. There's a button somewhere that will quiet it down, but why the hell would I wanna use a thing like that? My own laughter is barely audible and I keep going. No way I'm getting caught. Not now, not in _'this'_ car. In this car, I'm invincible; I'm Achilles after a heel transplant. Zeus who can keep it in his pants. Stalker Tim with his prey's scent on the wind. I'm the _'Master'_ of the Road.

This is the best day of my life! Well it would have been, but then I just _'have'_ to go and turn my head, just to be sure I really did get away. I jinx it. There's no Batman chasing after me on the side of the curb. This fact does not please the Master of the Road. I check the multitudes of rearview mirrors and the monitors set in the dash. Nothing.

Outside the sunset is starting to dim, pollution induced gradients of pink and orange turning to grey. I watch the road behind me, getting progressively more worried when nothing shows up. When I turn back it's to a huge, dark shape _'crashing'_ into the windshield like an overgrow bug escaped from tormenting the thieves in hell.

"Wipers, wipers!" I yell and just a start mashing any buttons within reach. Why can I find the fucking wipers? Oh my fuck it's looking at me now, claws doing something to the doors. Despite my best efforts, the door's forced open and I slam down on the break like I slam down on the break like an alcoholic slams down on free shots. Then I tuck and roll the hell out of there. I don't exactly stick the landing and my shirt gets all torn up, stained with the reddish sand, maybe I can play it off as blood and get some bat pity points... Nah, I don't need those. Don't worry uniform; I'll get you a good funeral. "You car's design sucks!" I yell at him. If I could have just found the fucking wipers!

He moves towards me and move first, fist aimed for his face, I don't have a lot of strength to put into it, but I'm still a little peeved when he grabs my wrist and lifts me up without a seconds pause, leaving my stomach somewhere on the ground my feet are dangling inches off of. "How are you so fucking strong!?" I squirm, but I can get loose. If this is it for me, it was worth it, for those thirty seconds I was behind the wheel, I was a God! I regret nothing. I dunno, this is kinda fun, maybe being a supervillain's not that bad of a career choice.

"Jason, you're aggravating your injuries!" He barks out and I struggle less. But only a little less, because I still get the palm of my free hand to slap into his face and _'stay'_ there.

"Slap." I grind my palm into his face; he doesn't even seem to notice. Robot, I'm calling it now, this guy's a robot. Unstoppable, expressionless, ripped me out of the womb of that car… Wait, what parts of his face I can see don't look so expressionless.

He looks like he's going to start crying almost. Oh God, oh why! How do you handle something like this? I drop the hand from his face and let it hang limply, just like the rest of me.

"You uh, okay there old man?" Cause fuck he looks old, could set up a river system in those lines round his mouth. "Your cars real, nice, really, got a, uh, just couldn't find the wipers, perfect otherwise really fucking…"

He lets out a choked sound and if I killed him Ima just curl up and die right here, before Superman gets hold of me for killing his best friend. "Jason." My name comes out of his lips like the word chili comes out of mine, all soft and breathy, then I'm pulled up and my face is squished against the armor at his chest, both of his arms wrapping tightly around me.

Normally I would have struggled, kicked him where it hurt the most – for this guy probably his face, seeing as how armor covers everything else, he should invest in a helmet – but my body stays limp. I don't feel like fighting, just a couple minutes off after my many hours of badassery. Its union regulated, and I gotta do what the union tells me. When his hands pass through my hair, and he presses his cheek against my forehead, I lean in to the contact.

"I got you Jay." He whispers, like talking too loud will shatter something, I get the weird feeling he thinks it will shatter _'me'_ but that's a dumb ass feeling, so I ignore. "You're safe now, I got you, I got you…"

I feel safe; feel my eyes slipping closed, adrenaline abandoning me to my fate. Well, screw you adrenaline. I force my eyes open just to spite the fucking brain chemical that's flooded out of my blood vessels. If I hang here too long, I'm gonna for reals fall asleep though, so I plant my hand against his chest and push back.

Unlike McCreepy, this guy actually takes the hint and puts me down, but ouch, okay, pain shoots up my ankle, just gotta _'not'_ put weight on that right now. I keep some of his cape balled up in my fist though, just in case, in case I uh, fall or something. I like the way the fabric feels in my hand, and he doesn't complain about it, so I figure its okay.

"So, uh…" I look back to the car, to the shack in the distance where my vict… er, kidnappers are still hanging around. "This is weird." I sigh at last, cause what the fuck else am I supposed to do?

"What were you thinking, running out into the streets like that _'alone'_ when you knew these people were after you?" He hooks one hand under my chin and starts turning it over, reminding me of the scratches and bruising along one side of it.

"Was creepy in there." The words come out a little muffled past my squished cheeks. "Think they wanted to experiment on me in the basement."

" _Why_?" He flings one arm out, I think he's pulling a dad look at me, don't ask how I can tell, just trust me on this, that's what he's doing. "Do you know what they could have, the hand under my chin moves to my shoulder, to cup at the back of my head.

"Cause…" I reach into my pocket and yank the almost empty bag of gummy bears out of my pocket. Ha, proof! "Cause this." I hold them in front of his face.

"Because Susan from human resources gave you a bag of candy? Was there something wrong with the candy?" He looks skeptical, but I'm pretty sure he's gonna investigate this Susan woman anyway.

"No." I roll my eyes at him, of all the stupid things, I'm not gonna condemn people for sharing their candy. "Because she gave _'me'_ a bag of candy, and there's nothing wrong with it. And the people there, were all so fucking weird like, all smiling, and good morning Jason, and, and none of em told me to shoo or tried to kick me out when I touched the expensive ass artwork. With my _'hands'_ , intentionally!"

"Because they were nice to you?" His jaw works in a way that tells me he's confused, and for a couple seconds, I'm kinda worried he's gonna call me crazy and toss me away with the other crazy people. I fish a gummy bear out of the bag and pull a little more of his cape towards me. If it too late to ask for another hug? When I look back up at him, Batman's face has lost those traces of confusion. "I'll look into it." He promises without saying _'I promise'_ then he hooks his arms behind my knees and against my back, and picks me up again before I even have time to eat the gummy bear.

"For now, is there somewhere you want me to take you?" he smoothes down my hair and starts carrying me back to the car like I weigh nothing. No, seriously, _'how'_ is this guy so strong? Doesn't matter, I'll put up with it to get a ride in that car again.

"Can I drive?" I ask, finally shoving the gummy bear in my mouth. I need fuel and its fellows deserted me in that truck, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

"No." he says as he sets me down in the passenger seat, then he goes and clips the seatbelt over me, how am I supposed to feel the freedom of the car when I got a seatbelt pinning me down? I don't expect an explanation, if this was my car, I wouldn't let anyone _'touch'_ it, not even with their pinky toe, but he gives one anyway. "The controls have gotten too complicated."

He has to detach my hold in his cape when he goes round to the driver's seat, and for the couple of seconds I can't hold onto it, an emotion I don't like fills up my empty stomach. Then he gets in next to me and as soon as I snatch up a corner of the cape, again it goes away.

"Can we stop for snacks?" I'm pushing my luck here, I know it.

"There's McDonalds on the way." He runs a hand over my head again, than same gentle look on his face, and I maybe lean just a little into the touch, a teeny, tiny bit, but I'm probably concussed or something, so give me a fucking break alright.

O

O

O

The drive takes a lot longer than I thought it would. With how fast this car is, he could have gotten me back to Brentwood in thirty minutes, tops, and that's with traffic. Not complaining though, in the biggest surprise in the history of surprises, Batman's a surprisingly okay conversationalist. Not sure why I thought he wouldn't be. He's maybe not the best, and his face does that 'about to cry' thing a couple of times, and his input is mostly questions, but at least there are no awkward silences.

What was Bludhaven like? Craptastic. How did you end up there? He doesn't look happy about the story of why I left Star City. You're doing fine in school? The people who messed with me in the beginning are too scared to now. And your friends? I don't know if my stalker counts as a friend, but I include him along with Eddie when I tell Batman about them. He's really interested in that part of the conversation; maybe he's looking for a new sidekick? Better warn Eddie to stay clear, don't want him dressed up as a human traffic light chasing after giant, human traffic light eating crocodile men.

He asks me about the stuff I do after school, and lets me complain about the easier classes for a while, he says I should join a club, thinks I'd like something in the theater. I don't tell him how dumb the idea sounds, don't wanna hurt his feelings, but I'm not a nerd, I gotta better things to do than theater like… fuck I don't know, being a delinquent or something. Plotting my supervillain path. Maybe I should check the theater out anyway, might help me come up with my gimmick. He even brings up that weekend internship program at Wayne Enterprises, it's a paid thing apparently, and mostly getting coffee, says he'll tell me when he's done investigating to know it's safe.

Well, I _'am'_ gonna need some new uniforms soon… But then I won't have enough time to check out the theater… Why does life have to be so complicated? Batman doesn't have an answer for that one. Figures.

We stop at a clinic before we actually go back, to _'that'_ clinic. I'm too tired and limp from all the food and the drive in the Batmobile and every fucking other thing that happened to me today to be scared of Doctor Thompkins this time. And I got Batman with me; he'll protect me from the needles. Come at me doc, do your worst, I got backup this time.

I think I fall asleep before she's done, because one second she's cutting away at my slacks to get to my ankle and the next Batman's carrying me out again. Think I see someone when we walk past, blue eyes watching me. Gotham has a lot of people with blue eyes.

I ' _know'_ I'm asleep as soon as he sets me down on the soft leather seats of the Batmobile again. Maybe if I sleep now, he'll let me live in the batmobile.

O

O

O

He was afraid of Dick. I thought he'd be afraid of me too.

Jason's bigger than he was before, and before, he was so, so small. Now he has to curl his legs to fit comfortably on the seat beside me, but he still feels off, still small, somehow. He's sleeping and I resist the desire to take off my glove and feel for the pulse at his neck again.

Dick said Jason was a little touch averse, leaned into it sometimes and flinched back others. I haven't noticed any of the latter so far, but it's best to leave him be while he sleeps, nestled amongst the wrapped of the many burgers he'd eaten, his hands clutching portion of my cape in a white knuckled grin.

He sleeps.

He's sleeping, breathing deeply in and out, and the lump I haven't been able to completely swallow since Dick called from Bludhaven, since Tim sent the pictures, presses against my throat again and makes my eyes burn. Jason seemed so small in all of them, small and thin and now he's gained weight, built muscle back. Not surprising exactly, Tim says he just about never stops eating. He's growing, he's alive and he's growing, and he was almost… Those men would have taken that away from all of us again.

They're going to pay for that, _'dearly'_ just as soon as I get him back to the school, where he feels safe, where he can _'be'_ safe.

I reach a hand for him again, stop it an inch short of resting on his head, my hand burning through my chest in it's attempt at escape. I wish I could take him home and wrap him in his favorite electric blanket, keep him there, safe, forever.

No matter the angle of questioning, all he had to say about Bludhaven was that it hadn't been kind to him. For however long he'd been there, he had nothing good to say of the place. Who left him there? Brought my son back into the world and left him alone, to be chased down by criminals?

To fend for himself with _'nothing',_ not even the memories of how he'd done it before.

How bad had it been, that the smallest show of kindness has him believing the absolute worst of everyone around him. When Dick found him, before they knew about his missing memories, god what had the poor boy thought his brother was _'doing'_?

The school comes up too soon, it hasn't been long enough, I haven't been able to see him long enough, and the last time I did was right before those _'animals'_ bundled him into that van.

After his reactions to Dick and to Tim and to Alfred, I had no reason to believe he would have my presence any more of a comfort. I was incorrect in that assessment. He's my son after all and how much time have I already wasted, staying away. Now there's no time. I have to track down the people who want to hurt him. Find a cure for his amnesia so he can come home without another fit of panic.

Even in sleep, he won't let go of my cape.

It's hard to get him out of the car without waking him and I end up just pulling him from his seat to mine, then carrying him out like that. He's too big for me to cradle him like I had that last time, but then he'd been cold too, and still… He mumbles something, something about worms and his hand comes up to slap weakly against my face. Abruptly, that train of thought is derailed and I smile down at him, rest his head against my shoulder so I can tuck it under my chin.

Not cold anymore, he actually has a bit of a fever, might be from the drugs they gave him, but Leslie thinks it will pass soon, to call her if it doesn't.

He mumbles a little in his sleep, as I carry him up to his and Tim's room, I can't understand a lot of what he says, the few snatches of words that I can, I wish I couldn't. More security, I need to put someone else on him, just Tim and an untrained old pen pal aren't enough to keep him safe, they can't watch Jason every second of everyday like he need to be.

Like the drive, I take a lot longer to walk that I should, but I can't bring myself to hurry, to not feel his weight in my arms anymore. When I finally get to his bed and try to lay him down, I still can't get him to release the cape.

"Jason, I need to leave." I hate to shake him awake, but no amount of tugging his going to get the fabric out of his hands. His eyes, just a little greener than they should be, slip open in a glare, and then he pulls the cape eve closer to him.

"Mine, go 'way." He mumbles, neglecting to take into consideration that he's the one literally holding me in place, he curls around he balled up cape like it's one of his pillows with a yawn. I tug again and he makes a gesture with his hand that would have lost him forty-five dollars to the swear jar.

It's easier to just leave him the cape. I make sure to tuck it snugly around him and he burrows into it, a small contented smile forming on his face. There's that lump again, choking me out. I brush the stray, two-toned curls aside and lean down to press my lips against his brow, the way I would when he'd had his worst nightmares. "Goodnight Champ."

"Night Br'ce." He mutters and my heart stops for a second in my chest. Clark is going to think I have arrhythmia at this rate; he's going to fly into my city and bring all his Darksides and Doomsdays along with him. So I don't read too much into it, Jason's half asleep, exhausted, his subconscious is closer to the surface.

I have to leave, the sooner I can fix this, the sooner he'll have him memories back. I move to stand, by Jason's hands have moved from clutching the cape to gripping my arm, and his grip's _'strong.'_ Even when I half pull him out of the bed, it doesn't release.

I let out a deep sign and start feeling out for pressure points; at least I don't have to worry about him being afraid of me.


	11. Life's Great Difficulties

Exam papers; math, history, English, psychology for some indeterminable reason… All laid out before me, well, besides me, right now I only have the math one actually before me. An old man, he has a nametag, but I'm not gonna bother to read it, makes it harder to hate the concept of someone when that concept has a name. He's watching me, just watching while I sharpen my pencil, and scrawl my name on the top of the page, fill in all the little things that need to be filled in.

This is what I woke up to this morning, this, a blaring headache a face that feels like it's going to fall off, an appointment at the police station, and _'this'._ The worst part of any school, I'd rather they wrap me in duct tape and toss me back at that truck than have to put up with this bullshit. It's torture is what it is, malicious, psychological torture, devised to break the spirits of the youth before they enter society, disguised as neat lines of print on stark while sheets and tiny little blocks for shading in.

"It's been brought to our attention that you may not be suited to your current curriculum, Mister Todd, You have to take a placement exam Mister Todd, you missed one fucking day of school, because some asshats kidnapped you and you stole Batman's cape, and now we have to reevaluate your position at this school Mister Todd."

Fine, they didn't say those kinds of thing exactly, but it all amounts to the same thing doesn't it. Hope Batman ripped those guy's intestines outta their ears. When I look up the guy has the nerve to smile at me, condescending ass. Thinks his exam papers can beat me. I stole Batman's car, the batmobile was _'mine'_ for like, half of a whole minute. This is just paper, what's paper gonna do to me?

The old guy nods and clicks on a timer. I turn the page over, me and my pencil prepared for the hours long torment that this school has seen fit to unleash upon us. Oh, wait… these are the same equations I _'learned'_ in class the other day. For a certain definition of the word learned, if the definition were _'fell asleep in class, then filled out the worksheet.'_ This isn't so bad. They're trying to lull me into a false sense of security, they're going to spring an impossible one on me next I know it.

Meh, this one's not so bad either, or the next one. Someone needs to have a word with their torture advisor about this, it's kinda sad. They were probably snickering in their torture dungeons and they're gonna be just, _'so'_ disappointed when I don't start screaming.

It gets harder near the end, but even then I _'think'_ I go most of them right. When I turn the last page over, there's still half an hour on the clock, so I can even look it over again and make sure.

"Do you need a break before you move on to the ext subject?" Old guy smiles again when he takes them from me, if he wrote these papers he's gonna lose his job for sure. That's what he gets for trying to entrap me, so I smirk back. I'm on to him; I'm on to all of them.

"Ya mean that wasn't the break?" I fold my arms behind my head and lean back in my chair, twirling my trusty pencil between my fingers. Mightier than the sword indeed, together, we shall conquer all.

O

O

O

To painkiller, or not to painkiller, that is the question. My headache, and my foot ache, and my body ache, and all the other aches have taken themselves up to the next level. But I gotta deal with cops soon and I really don't wanna be drowsy for that. Whatever, I'll just focus on something else while I decide.

Like how, unfortunately, by the end of our harrowing experience, the pencil has been reduced to a mere stump of its former glory. I give it a nice burial out in the courtyard, right besides the fountain and pray for its glory in the afterlife as I pour some of my orange soda upon its grave in tribute. Or that it'll grown into a tree, a huge damned tree that will cover the world in it's…

"Hi Jason."

"Shit." I swerve around and mess out more of the orange soda than I expected to. Aw man, I was gonna need that sugar for my cop appointment. "Hello Timothy." Stalker always popping up behind me, goddamnit.

There's a sandwich wrapped in clear plastic in my face the sandwich is attached to his arm, which is attached to the stalker.

"You missed lunch, so I saved it for you." Kay, maybe, as stalkers go, I guess he's not so bad. "How did your placement exams go? I bet you're not gonna be in my class anymore huh? I'll miss you."

Geez, even my stalker's lost faith in me. This truly is the end; I should just start packing already. This sandwich has roast beef on it. Sandwich first, and then panic. I shrug noncommittally.

"Thanks. Hey arentya s'posed to be in class?" I ask him, arching my eyebrow at him and he flushes, turning away. I'm not sure, but I think I can see some bruising under his shirt collar. Probably crashed that skateboard of his somewhere, trying to stalk someone from the rooftops… I'm maybe a little less hungry than I thought.

His eyes widen and his hands flop out in front of him. "If I'm late again they'll call my dad." His eyes dart about the courtyard for a couple seconds, then he takes off for the classrooms. "Bye Jason!" He waves over his shoulder, and I wave back, just this once.

Now, sandwich. Even if I'm not very hungry, I already started on it, and I gotta finish it, but then what? Its still, like, two hours before I gotta go to the GCPD and deal with those fucktards in blue. Should probably take the painkillers, maybe they'll go away, but that'll make me drowsy…

There is only one path left to me. Back in my bedroom, the Batman's cape – now my very warm blanket awaits. Naptime.

O

O

O

Worms, and splinters, and gross green water.

Blah, weird dreams are weird. Need to get a dream catcher, can make one outta my hair or something. What woke me?

"Aw, that's adorable."

Voices. A voice that's not supposed to be there.

"No." I groan and open my eyes to see McCreepy, standing by the door. Was having such a nice nap too, asshole. I scrub the rough side of the cape over my eyes to wake them up a little more and roll over. "I don't feel like being kidnapped for ice cream today, I got stuff to do."

"Yeah I know." Well, at least he sounds apologetic, now he sees I'm awake he steps further into the room. "I'm supposed to take you down to the station, but we can grab some ice cream on the way back." There's something wrong with his hands, they're mostly in his front pants pockets, but even without looking closely, I can tell they're a little swollen, purple and green bruising peeking out around his knuckles.

"The fuck happened to your hands?" I sit up and try to look closer at them, but he steps back.

"Nothing important Littlewing, come on, we're gonna be late." He leans over to ruffle my hair and chuckles, _'chuckles'_ at the glare I sent him. Note to self, must work on appearing more threatening. "You can bring the cape if you want."

"Fine." I grumble some curses under my breath and roll out of bed to locate my shoes. This thing's probably bullet proof, good for if I gotta make a getaway from those cops at the GCPD.

O

O

O

"Detective Harvey Bullock." The cop stands to introduce himself as soon as we open the office door. He's big and not in uniform, and he smells like smoke. If I come out of this smelling like smoke and get expelled for it, I'm suing. "I was assigned to…"

"I didn't do it." I say as McCreepy drags me within the cop's presence, he's stronger than the looks, and no amount of digging in my heels slows out progress. "And if I did do it, ya can't prove it. And if ya can prove it I've got an alibi, airtight, ask my roommate." Stalker Tim will lie for me right? I've already bargained away my mealtimes, but maybe he'll do it in exchange for an autograph or something.

The cop glares at me, and I glare back, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. I've been interrogated before, and this isn't even a creepy interrogation room, just an office, I can…

McCreepy drops a hand on my shoulder and leads me over to the seat opposite the cop's, shaking his head at me. "Detective Bullock's job is making sure the people who hurt you get caught, okay, you're not in trouble."

"I never saw em before in my life." I say, letting the cape fall over my shoulders as this situation forces me to slip into the very comfortable chair – by God! This is a comfortable chair, it's like my ass is resting on fairy wigs, how did a cop get this chair? I might have started to like him on the fact of this chair's existence alone, but now he's looking at my Batman's cape/blanket. And I have to glare at him again, hoping that I'll spontaneously develop heat vision. It's my blanket _'mine'._ I worked hard to steal it. At least, I think I did, my memory of last night's a little fuzzy after that fifth cheeseburger.

"Jayce." McCreepy chides and frowns at me like I'm a preschooler who scribble _'fuck'_ all over the walls and now I'm not gonna get my snack. He wouldn't really do that to me, right? "Let Harvey do his job." McCreepy's never frowned at me like that before and I feel almost… chastised it the word I think. "I'm sorry; he's had some… bad experiences."

Why's McCreepy here anyway, he's a Bludhaven cop. I didn't get kidnapped in Bludhaven. I'd ask, but then he might leave and I'll have to be here alone with the cop and I don't feel up to jumping out of a window when he tried to arrest me. "Fine." I mutter.

"Fine then, let's get this over with, brat." He pulls a file out from under a bunch of others on his desk. "Normally we'd have you pick em out of a lineup, but that'd be pointless here. These the guy's who took you?"

"No they're…" I take the file from him and turn it over in my hands, have to squint to make out the purpled features of the Three Bastardteers. "Fuck, what happened to their faces?" They were gonna kill me sure, but now I feel almost sorry for them, they look even worse than me I'll bet. "Damn."

"So they _'are'_ the kidnappers?" It comes out a sigh and Harvey takes the picture, I give it over willingly, happy to have it outta my hands, what if they haunt _'me'_ over this?

"Uh, yeah." I look up at McCreepy; he looks away, rubbing at his bruised knuckles. Okay. I chew on the edge of my cape and turn back to the cop, under my breath I mutter. _'I think.'_ Because wow, and they're still alive according to the file. Mother Teresa's fruit loops.

This settles it, I'm not gonna be a supervillain, sorry McCreepy, but I wanna keep my good looks for a couple more years.

"Did they say anything about their motivations when they had you, who they were working for?" Bullock's got a pen resting against a notepad now.

"Roland Desmond."They didn't say _'his'_ name sure, but everyone knows who Blockbuster is. "Cause I set 'that bendy freak' on 'im." This chair really is comfortable, wonder if they'll mind me taking a nap on it, I didn't get enough time to sleep off the painkiller drowsiness, but now I can press my face against the cushion without it hurting. "Dunno what they meant 'bout that. Proly couldn't get the good stripper's for their party after I shot at em. Wanted to kill me and chop me into little pieces and to wash up on Bludhaven's beaches."

"So not ransom, huh?" The cop mumbles as he writes down some stuff. McCreepy puts his hand on my shoulder again, he looks a little green, maybe he should see a doctor, be the one getting shots for a change. "That all?" Harvey asks and I shrug. "Right, now, Batman…"

"Batman? The fuck is that? Sounds like a weirdo" I'm suddenly a little more awake and my hands close around the black fabric pooled on my lap, the cop narrows his eyes at me, but I just widen mine in return. I'm so innocent, so very, very innocent. "Never saw 'im before in my life. T'was just Ugly Stache and Sock Puppet and the other guy, didn't have time to give him a nickname, and me, didn't see anything else."

"Kid." Bullock sighs and runs a hand over his stubbly face. He looks tired, maybe I shouldn't be giving him a hard time, but I'm not tossing Batman under the bus, he fed me, I don't rat out people who feed me, that's a rule. Okay, it wasn't a rule before, but it's a rule now, that's why my life's been so weird lately I didn't come up with my rules for Gotham city yet, and this is my first.

Crap, if I make that a rule, then Ima have to be nice to McCreepy, and Stalker Tim too. I'll set the rule from now, from now, I'll look out for the people who feed me, but what if it's poison, and if it only starts now then why am I doing this for Batman again?

"Wanna lawyer." I say. That'll get him off my back for at least a couple hours right, by then the painkillers'll be outta my system, and I'll be able to say something smarter.

"Jesus, you don't need a lawyer." Harvey grumbles, then looks over at McCreepy and waves a hand over to me, a pleading look on his face.

"I want two lawyers." I say to McCreepy and he snorts. Ha, made him laugh, now I can claim the interview was unprofessional and get a retrial, a reinterview… a re- something.

"THE BATMAN…" Bullock growls the words out at me like a mad bulldog. His face looks kinda like a bulldog, but I don't think I'll tell him that. "Said you might be uncomfortable with a police escort, would you feel more secure with a police escort for a few weeks anyway?"

"But I thought this creep was my police escort." I point at McCreepy and he grins his toothpaste grin, cocking his head to the side as he shrugs helplessly. Harvey sighs.

"Unfit for questioning." He mutters and scribbles it down on his notebook, then slams the thing shut. "I'll call you in if there are any follow up questions, but for now you're free to go, don't take any unnecessary risks, you're _'police escort'_ can fill you in on those." He waves his hand at the door. Yeah he looks tired, maybe I should send him a card, and anonymous card, a musical anonymous card that sings those annoying ass pop songs you can never get out of your head.

"Yes!" I jump up, ouch, bad idea, ankle still kinda hurts and stroll out of the office, my cape swishing dramatically behind me as I make my glorious exit from the office. Freedom awaits, freedom and sweet, sweet Baskin Robbins. I don't know why exactly McCreepy finds that name amusing, but as long as he buys me my ice cream, I care not a fuck.

"You should be nicer to Harvey though." McCreepy says as we're getting into the car. "You used to really… he's a good cop, you might like him if you got to know him."

I don't like cops, why would I ever like a cop. I wouldn't even willingly put myself in the presence of a cop of I could help it.

"Fine. Ice cream." I repeatedly pat McCreepy's arm to get him to hurry and start up the car.

He laughs and does it as slowly as possible, turning his keys like a flash-frozen chameleon. Asshole.


	12. Looking for important things

Getting out of the school was a bitch and a half.

Security's gotten tighter, a lot tighter; they brought in a whole squad of new, private guards to patrol the grounds. Intense guards with scowls and sunglasses and probably guns too, but I don't think there's a law or something that bans those from school property, so maybe just the ones patrolling outside the walls. Everywhere I turn there's another, and I can feel their eyes on me whenever I walk by, ready to step in my path when I try getting to the gates. Punching them would get me in trouble, and for some reason, people have taken to laughing at me when I do… anything really, don't wanna give them more fuel by running from dumbass guards.

I tried to memorize the patterns, but if there are any, I'll give it to the manager of their team; they're too complex for me to figure out after a morning of watching from the roof. So I had to wing it by climbing this gnarly witch tree that has fucking _death spikes_ growing out of it. Then I had to get over the barbed wire draped across the walls, so sharp one misstep would have had me sliced into only so much string that alley cats would bat around for hours upon hours.

I'd had my foot almost over the edge when my plan had hit a minor snag.

"Hey, what are you _doing_ up there?" Some girl had said, squinting up at me. A student, but dressed in casual wear. All alone, no weapons I could see. So only a minor snag see, even if she sold me out, I'd have been too far to turn back.

"Escaping, shh." I'd pressed my finger to my lips and dived over the wall.

Generic scowling security guard had come running like hell not a minute later, I ran like heller and kept well out of his reach. That took like half an hour till I hitched a ride by grabbing on the back of a huge commerce truck that had been on its way to the city.

Left him screaming into his phone likely on the verge of an aneurism, but that's what they get for letting other people out and not me. Like they think I'm going to sneak in a bunch of my criminal buddies, the assholes.

Took so much trouble for me to claim my freedom, you'd think I'd revel in it more than wondering back to that same grimy part of the city I always gravitate to. The same notch of suck where that creepy batgirl saved me from what might someday be the sludge overlord. I take a pass though that same alley, check the dumpster just too make sure he hasn't mutated, I check closely enough to see something that might be wiggling sludge and decide I'd I have more important things to worry about than sludge overlords. I hope.

Dunno, something about this part of the city's familiar, maybe it would remind me of Bludhaven or something, but it doesn't have any of the bright lights. And the smells are kind of on the same scale, but while Bludhaven kind of smells like fish, this is… something else.

No one tries to mug me when I get move through the alleys. No shadowy pieces of fabric creep out or vanish around corners, and I keep going, breathing the smell in. Like I said before, it doesn't smell good, but it's, I dunno what it is. It's giving me a headache though, maybe I should turn back.

No I should definitely turn back, but am I going to? No, because that would mean I was running away from a bad smell, and that would mean I'm turning all soft like the other kids at that school. Headache or not, I'm gonna press on until I find… something.

Something like a car. Something like boxy vintage Mercedes parked in the next alley I turn down. Oooh. I turn my head about, checking for signs of car owners with weapons or huge, burly fists before I approach it.

The hood is still warm when I let my hands hover over the glossy silver finish, but I won't dare let them touch it. Car alarms suck and this thing one-hundred percent has one. Doubt anyone would believe I'm just looking. Just looking and the exterior looks so, so smooth, if I touch it very lightly and real far from the doors then maybe….

There's scraping up and behind me. I spin and step down on the nearest solid object, the mangled lid of a trashcan that flips up into my waiting hand. The only sounds are those I would have expected to hear around here. Traffic and yelling and kids playing where kids should not be playing and something's just broken, more cursing.

My eyes narrow as they search out _that_ sound again, a lazy wind picks up again. It makes the smell worse, it makes my headache worse. I hear the sound again, now directly up above me. This is the part where the smart guy in the slasher movie runs away. Where he gets chased down and chopped into bits or gets away for a few hours.

I'm not that guy. I leap up to grab the lowest rung of the rusted fire escape, keeping a tight hold on the sort of shield in my other hand and scale up the side of the building faster than I can ever remember doing before.

I know which condemned apartment to check, have to edge around a spot on the grating that know won't hold my weight anymore. The place is empty, it shouldn't be empty, but it is, aside from a pallet of flattened, blood stained cardboard. I think someone got stabbed here, it looks like the kind of place you go when you _want_ to be stabbed to death. Unnerving, headache inducing, but there's _something_ here I need to find, so my mind puts a mattress in the cardboard's place, puts a moldy bookshelf and old tapes against the wall. Smell of cigarettes.

Removes the huge figure silhouetted at the rotted away door.

"Shit!" I raise my trash shield and he spins to face me. "Don't try me McStabby, I'm armed and… huh?" I cut myself off when the guy's features move out of the shadows and it's, he's Wayne in slacks and a soft looking turtleneck instead of a fancy ass suit and his hair's a mess and, he's… I lower the shield incrementally to get a better look at him. He's looking like he spent the morning chasing after deranged squirrels.

He gapes and looks for a second like he's gonna fall. Crap, what if someone's already stabbed him or something? Coming out here alone, with _that_ car, dumbass. I rush forward to catch him, but he catches himself first, which, honestly is a way better idea, cause I'll bet he weights a metric fucking ton and I'm kinda… not strong enough for that. His hand shoots out to keep me back though, and my feet stall from approaching any further. That kinda stings, can't tell why but it…

I take a couple steps back and away from him, not gonna run, but my head's hurting a lot worse now. Ouch. It's worse than the stinging in my chest, but also not, so I focus on my head, and the rushing that's building up in my ears. Maybe I'm allergic to something in this place, that makes sense right, that's why my throat's closing up, I'm just… allergic. I should take a, a nap and I'll…

"Jason." There's a hand on my shoulder now soft, but I jerk back from it, snapping open eyes I hadn't noticed were closed. His face is kind of watery, blurry hanging over me and the hand moves to brush something wet off my cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"'M looking for something." I clear my throat to get rid of that weird, rough feeling in it and step away from him again. "What are _you_ doing here?" I cross my arms and scowl at him. "You wanna get hijacked or something? You _know_ how much that car down there is worth? Jesus freaking Christ, Bruce."

"Language." He straightens up and yeah, he's a lot taller than his pictures make him look. Like a huge koala bear if it looked nothing like a koala bear. And wore a turtleneck. And was huge. And made me feel like I'm about to be grounded. "I'm looking for something too." He says and pulls himself together until he doesn't look shaky at all anymore.

"Geez, what could _Bruce Wayne_ have lost in Crime Alley?" A ask, cocking my head to the side and willing an answer to come to me at the differing angle.

"Some important things that I'll never get back." He says and slips his hands into his pocket's watching me with maybe the saddest expression I've ever seen in my life. Like, worse than McCreepy when I bolted from him kinda sad. "Then I found something else very important." Here he smiles a little, still sad, but warmer. "And I lost that too." He slumps in on himself.

"You lose a lot of very important things, huh?" I tug at my tie as I frown at him.

"I don't think I look after them very well." He admits with a half-hearted shrug. "I thought maybe I'd find that very important thing if I looked here again."

"Ah." I nod once as though I understand what he's going on about, because it does sound kind of important, but then I realize I really don't. "If you say so."

His smile now is a little wider, but no less sad. "I'll leave you alone then." He turns back to the door.

"No!" I call out before he can leave, him leaving would be… it would suck and I don't know why, but it really would, fuck you headache, you can crawl in a hole and die. It _would_ be bad. "Uh." But now he's facing me again, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be saying here. "I'm not doing anything today, hows about I help you look?"

Bruce's face scrumbles up and it's his turn to cock his head at me. "Why would you do that?"

"Karma." I say and shove my hands into the pockets of my blazer and tap the toes of my left shoe against a piece of rotten board. "A lotta weird crap's been happening to me lately, maybe I get my karma up and it'll ease a bit."

"Okay." Now his smile is only a little sad as he mimics my posture, his hands still in his own pockets.

"Right." I spin around on one foot to survey the way too familiar apartment, excessively familiar, I feel like if I look hard enough I'll find old needles in the walls. "Where last did you see it?"

"Right here." He inclines his head in a gesture that encompasses the empty apartment.

"I don't think it's here anymore." I kick aside a piece of the cardboard pallet, a bug crawls out, one big enough that it could have eaten me if it had a dozen or so of its buddies along and I was laying still, stuck in a box, a shudder runs down my back at the thought and I turn quickly to look at Bruce again. "You sure you didn't take it outta here?"

"Well, I did."

"Right, then we gotta retrace your steps, where'd ya take it?" He seriously couldn't have said that _before_ I disturbed the bugs of the damned. Nightmares tonight, definitely nightmares.

Wayne hums, still looking unsure, maybe he thinks I'm gonna try and steal it when we find it. Don't see why, I'm still in my uniform, I _look_ like I have enough crap of my own. Unless it's something _really_ expensive, must be super important.

"Okay." He says before I can come up with something to say that will convince him. "We'll look in the next place I took it.

O

O

O

Where he took it next turns out to be a burger joint called 'Radu's' weird name, and I got no idea what this guy coulda ever been doing here. The padding on the booths lining the walls might once have been white, but now they're all stained and covered in enough cracks to give someone with OCD a heart attack. But we got here without being stabbed or hijacked in his fancy ass car, or hijacked then stabbed in his fancy ass car. That's not to say that guy watching us in the corner isn't going to make an attempt.

Place is packed, and I really hope the thing he lost isn't here, cause it would take for-fucking-ever to find it, and forever's a long time to spend here dressed like this.

"You check lost and found, and I'll uh…" I turn my head about the place; settle on looking at the kid picking at the stuffing coming out of one of the seat and the mother who looks too tired to make him stop. When I turn back, Bruce is already gone. Huh. Guess I'll have to check the lost and found myself then.

It takes until I'm pawing through a box that contains absolutely nothing of value, while I nervous cashier watches over me to realize that I have no clue what I'm supposed to be looking for.

"Maybe it would help if you could describe it?" His voice was too high and his shifty eyes shifted some more and he swallowed as he adjusted glasses that looked a little too big for him. "M, maybe it was too big for the box?"

"Don't think he'd bring something that big into a place like this." Ooh, yo-yo. I absentmindedly pull the toy out of the box and it lights up. Yo-yo's used to be weapons; I could have used a weapon a couple days ago. Woulda looked cool lighting up in that dark warehouse too.

"Jason." Bruce appears just behind the cashier guy (who screams – drama queen – and backs away from us) with a paper takeout bag under his arm.

"I don't think it's in lost and found." I say and set the yo-yo back into the box for whatever hapless kid happened to lose it, or for whatever overworked employee needs a distraction, same difference. It just wasn't meant to be.

Bruce hums again, but doesn't seem too disappointed.

"What's that?" I point at the bags.

"This is the same thing I ordered when I was last here with the thing I lost." He shifts the bag. "There's scientific evidence that taste and smell are the best senses to engage when attempting to unearth memories." Cashier guy is still staring and Bruce gives him a dopey smile that makes him look like he's just shaves off a couple dozen I.Q points. Then he starts for the door and I hurry after, just to make sure the guy in the corner doesn't actually try to stab him.

He's smart enough to not try and eat in the actual parking lot, and the view over the hill we stop at it pretty, but a little too bright, because it aggravates my headache.

Ouch.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asks when I drop my burger – way better than the place it came from woulda made me guess – and almost have a conniption when it almost falls on my white shirt. Now that's a stain that will never, ever come out, maybe I should have risked the blazer instead.

"Yeah, just, stains n shi… stuff." I say as I closely inspect my shirt, just to be sure it didn't get dirty, not because the deep concern in his eyes is making me uncomfortable. "Don't get why they made the shirts while, cause, what highschool student isn't ever gonna get it dirty, huh?"

"If you're so worried about the stains, why are you wearing your uniform on the weekend?" Bruce asks, sliding my soda across the hood of the car.

"All I got." I press the soda against my head, the cold of the ice seeping through the styrofoam to cool the miniature bastard running around the inside of my head, stabbing away at my brain. Freeze you accursed little fucker, freeze. "All m' other stuff's in Bludhaven." Was, I highly doubt it wasn't all thrown out to be picked on by the masses when rent was due. "'N people in Bludhaven wanna kill me, so I can't pick it up."

Bruce hums again, guy does that a lot, probably needs to go for like, conversation therapy or something, even Batman was better at talking than him.

"Did you remember where the thing is yet?" I sip on the soda, and frown at what's left of my burger, the thing tastes good, but I'm starting to suspect that same taste has something to do with my headache. With a mental shrug, I take another bite anyway.

' _Slow down Jason. You're going to lose a finger.'_

I drop the burger again and press the soda against the pain that's spiked in my head again. Betrayed by my own lunch, after I loved and treasured it, not sure if it's that or my head that hurts worse.

' _Sometimes you just have to give people a chance, Jason. They'll usually surprise you.'_

No, it's definitely my head. Maybe I shoulda stayed in bed today, slept off whatever drugs are still floating around in my system. Coulda been nice and cozy under my cape-blanket, instead of here.

"Jay." There's that concern again, soft as his voice is, I can still hear it, and there's an arm around my shoulders, when did that happen? When I force my eyes open and look up, his face is right in front of mine. The wrinkles around his eyes seem to deepen when he says. "Maybe we should stop looking."

"Nah, 'm good." I push him away and try to take another sip of my soda, but I might have kinda crushed it, oops, and this shirt is definitely stained now. Great. "'F we don't find it, my karma won't go up." I toss the crumpled remains of the cup aside and crunch the grass under my feet when I leap off the hood. "Come on."

"Fine." Bruce gives me his soda and ruffles my hair when he gets his feet back on the ground. "We'll keep looking."

O

O

O

If I thought that first place on his list was a weird place to find a billionaire, this one almost pushes that into the twilight zone. I know I use the word 'creepy' a lot, but this place really fits it.

A rickety, squat building built of half-rotten wood, that it's still standing at all is enough to make me believe there's some kind of creature born from a hellish portal lurking within its bowels. Of all the windows I can see, there's exactly _one_ fitted with an unbroken pane of glass, and that one has something hanging in front of it that could be either a dead body or a moth eaten curtain.

Gotham's chilly autumn wind blowing down my back doesn't make matters much better. If I listen closely, I can almost think it's whispering to me like in that horror movie I should not have watched. _'Get ooooout.'_

A plaque at the door reads, 'Ma Gunn's school for wayward boys.' Ma Gunn's school for wannabe serial killers more like it, my god. If I were a serial killer this is the exact kind of place I'd hide the bodies, no one would be crazy enough to come in here, not unless they'd just had a tetanus shot.

"Hmm, I'm leaning to haunted here." I look between the school and Bruce, kind of hoping he'll come to the same conclusion as me and decide to nope the fuck out. He doesn't, he goes inside.

"Kay, so you got a general search area, old man?" I ask as I gingerly set my foot down on a floorboard that creaks excessively much.

"I'm not sure, what do you think?" He's walking like he's not about to fall through the center of the earth, and he's like twice my size, so I figure if I step only where he steps I'll probably be okay.

"I think we're gonna die in here." I answer and peer around him at the blanket of spider webs covering a doorway. Hope those aren't toxic, cause 'death by spider bite' sounds lame.

He chuckles like he thinks I'm kidding, I'm not kidding, but I slip past him in the hall, the side of the hall that's _not_ covered in webs, and start walking, keeping my eyes peeled for anything out of place enough to be what he's lost.

Past what seems to be a dining hall, past a dusty classroom with peeling pink paint and only one desk still standing amongst the shattered remnants of its peers, past a bunch of other creepy, empty beds. I don't know where I'm going, but my legs seem to, so I let them lead me, it'd be nice to not be thinking about something for once, but I'm a little worried the place they're leading me to is death. Meh, Bruce is tall and scary looking; maybe he'd scare any death dealers off.

Where my feet decide to stop is before the only door in this shitty stack of wood that's closed. There's a chittering noise coming from inside the wooden door. I do not want to know what the chittering noise is. The chittering noise can chitter all it wants as long as it stays inside the door and doesn't slither over my arm when I try to push it open.

I push the door open hard enough that it slams against the inner wall and shakes several creeping things from the roof, one of the little fuckers comes an inch from falling down the front of my shirt. Nothing slithers across my hand though, so that's something.

It's a bedroom. Two mostly intact double bunk beds pressed against either wall, dust covers everything, but I can still make out the red of the crumpled covers on one of the beds. Light streaming in from between the slats boarding up the window hit the dust hovering in the air, highlighting the swirling patterns.

"Think I know this place." I say, pressing a hand against the eye threatening to pop out of my head if I don't either drown out the pain with those loopy painkillers I never finished taking or get the fuck out of this room before it kills me.

I'm not doing either of those things.

"I don't think it's here either, Jason, we should leave." Bruce has a hand on my shoulder, he's trying to tug me out of the room, it's not a tight hold, easy to brush off.

"Gotta check something." The words are a little hard to get out, and I'm not sure, what I'm supposed to be checking here. Too much dust, this place sucks, but there's something… Behind me, there's music, Bruce pulling out his phone and answering it. Doesn't matter.

There's something sticking out from under a piece of board in a corner, something fuzzy. My steps are silent when I approach it, dust swirling all around me. The board breaks apart under my fingertips when I lift it, despite how gently I lift it, and the pieces scatter over the teddy bear I find under it.

I frown at the toy, some patches of it are still brown, but it's been mostly grayed by age and the dust coating it. Anyone tries to cuddle with thing and they're gonna wind up with heyfever for _days._ Wonder what it's still doing here even.

When I pick the bear up, I'm careful, don't want it to fall apart to.

"Did you find something?" Bruce asks, his arm dangling at his side with the phone still clutched loosely in his hand.

"Nah, just an old toy." I step past him and set it on the bed above the one with the red sheets. Feels like it belongs there instead of rotting away in a corner. There, that should appease any ghosts wandering about the area. "I don't like this place." I say, not looking away from the exposed springs on the mattress where I'd just set the bear.

"Me neither." This time I don't try to pull away when he tugs on my shoulder to get me out of the room. "There's something I need to check on at work, is it okay if we keep looking after?"

"You mean at Wayne Tower?" I ask, trying to pull my mind out the fogginess that's starting to cover over the headache. Y'know, I got kidnapped from there a few days ago."

"I know, I'm so sorry." He sounds sorry, a little sorrier that he should. Think it would be a bad idea right now to tell him I got kidnapped because I was chasing him down half a dozen flights of stairs. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"S'okay, not like it was your fault." The floor's makes less noise going out than in, so I bet I've appeased something. "I'll be ready for them if they try it again." I might even get some more gummy bears out of it.


End file.
